Another Life
by Tabitha12
Summary: What would have happened if Carolyn Muir had walked out her first night at Gull Cottage and the Captain hadn't brought her back? This story will try and tell just that. Day On Universe
1. Chapter 1

_**The question has come up, among GAMMies from time to time, what would have happened if Daniel Gregg had let Carolyn Muir leave Gull Cottage that first night after they argued instead of turning the car around and convincing her to stay? Would the Ghost and Mrs. Muir ever have gotten together then? Well, of course they would. But if so, how? **_

_**The first part of this story, down to the point where Carolyn leaves, is based on the original GAMM pilot. It also includes some moments from the original GAMM pilot script that were not filmed, and/or left on the cutting room floor. Added to those scenes is quite a bit of dialogue made up out of my own head. If you can't tell which parts are which, that's good! The rest of the story (except for one scene, also expanded) after that first memorable night, is mine.**_

_**I thank the late Jean Holloway for her fantastic original script. Also a big thank-you to all GAMMies whoever said anything about what might have happened that day that was NEVER in the script. And an even BIGGER thank you and hug to Amanda for helping me over the rough spots when I got stuck.**_

_**Standard disclaimers still apply. The original characters in this story, Daniel Gregg, Carolyn, Candy and Jonathan Muir, Martha Grant, Ed Peavey and Claymore Gregg, etc. do not belong to me. They belong to Josephine Leslie, Jean Holloway, Bill Idelson & Harvey Miller, and Twentieth-Century Fox. If there are any character names you don't recognize, they are made up for this story, and may not be used without my consent.**_

**Another Life**

**Mary**

**September 18, 1968 **

An ancient car, bearing the words '_Schooner Bay, Real Estate, Sales and Rentals, Claymore Gregg, Proprietor,_ on the side door panel made its way slowly up the unpaved road. The car trembled, almost as if it were afraid as it came over the crest of the hill, steam coming from under the hood, and came to a heaving stop in front of the old, two-story house. The driver's door opened. A figure appeared and exited the vehicle, heading for a small wooden gate in the stone wall in front of the house. Somewhere, an owl hooted.

Claymore Gregg's eyes darted from the gate, to his car, to the monkey-puzzle tree in the yard, and finally to the front door of the two story cottage. If anyone was looking at his harried face… _Was anyone?_ They would have seen him grow even paler than he already was. Taking a deep breath, the nervous-looking man reached into his pocket, took out an old-fashioned key, and made his way up the flagstone walk, past the lions guarding the porch, up the stone steps leading to the front door and reached to insert the key into the lock. Before he could do so, however, the door squeaked open without his aid.

The nervous man gasped, standing stock-still for a moment, then gathering his wits and his courage together and, inhaling deeply, he stepped bravely inside. Once inside the doorway, he hesitated and looked about, fearfully, as if expecting someone, or some _thing,_ but all was quiet, at least for the moment, and Claymore Gregg surveyed the very dark hallway and rooms in front of him.

The house had been neglected for years, that much was obvious. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere. The Georgian staircase's paneling was gray with layer upon layer of dust and grime. More cobwebs dangled from the old-fashioned light fixture hanging from the ceiling in the foyer and from the doorways — the ones on the left leading off toward a study and living room, with even more covering the doorways leading to the kitchen and the maid's room on the right. The lanky, nervous man peered nervously into the doorway of the living room where yellowed, dingy sheets covered the furniture.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room, highlighting with sudden clarity, the portrait over the mantle in the parlor — the portrait of a sea captain, in full naval uniform. The eyes were not the lifeless ones of an old dingy portrait, but piercing blue, and seemed to glare at the man who was cowering before it. Claymore emitted a small squeak and his knees grew weak. Closing his watery blue eyes for a moment, issuing a silent prayer, he opened them again and managed to croak out the words:

"Captain? Captain, Gregg, I've... I wanted to let you know, I... I've leased the house..."

Claymore jumped as another bolt of lightning flashed outside. There was a sound of thunder, and he jumped again, as the front door slammed shut behind him. Terrified, the man tugged at the door, but to no avail, and then, as the entire house started shaking, he whirled around. A clay mug on the mantle beneath the painting started moving sideways by itself, falling and landing on the stone hearth of the fireplace, smashing into a hundred pieces. Gulping, once more, the nervous man continued.

"Captain, be reasonable! It's the only way I can meet the taxes! Yeah, I know I should have paid them, but I... you see, I had the paperwork all set aside in January, and then I lost the forms, and then I forgot about it... and nobody even contacted me about it until two weeks ago, and they aren't being fair! I've paid them some of it, but the government wants all the money now! I'm... I'm doing it for you! You know what will happen if I don't pay! They'll seize this property, and then you know what they'll do, don't you? They'll tear the house down!"

Somewhere upstairs a door blew open and Claymore could see a shaft of moonlight shine in on the stairway landing. A small sea chest came tumbling downstairs, all by itself. Nervously, Claymore went on.

"I... I know I should have taken care of it before, but I'm sorry, but I really did forget... I do my best not to think about this house at all! I don't like bothering you either, you know! I could have paid them IF you'd let me rent this place before, but no... Now the bottom has dropped out of the real-estate market..." Thumping footsteps came from the floor above and Claymore watched as footprints appeared in the heavy dust, coming closer and closer to the landlord. Resolutely, Claymore continued.

"I... I was lucky to get a tenant — fortunately I was able to work out the entire transaction by mail — a Mrs. Mu-Mu-Muir... A widow, from Philadelphia. She should be arriving Saturday with her housekeeper, a Miss. … maybe it's Mrs., I don't know... Grant, and two children. SMALL children... boy and girl. They won't take up much room..."

Thunder boomed again and six more footprints appeared in the dust on the last stairs descending the stairway. As the footsteps grew louder, and closer, Claymore crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

"_Coward..."_ Another rumble of thunder, much softer, seemed to say, and out of nowhere, a pitcher of water appeared over the prone figure. Claymore choked as the contents hit him, bringing him back to full consciousness, and he cringed as the pitcher was hurled to the floor, smashing not five feet away from where he was still sitting. Then an unseen hand yanked the hapless man to his feet by his shirt collar. The front door of the little cottage opened again by itself, as it had earlier, and Claymore found himself on the receiving end of what is politely known as the 'bum's rush,' and went flying out the door and down the stairs.

"Hey, w-w-watch the glasses! They're my only pair!" the man wailed. Reaching the car, he was inside in record time, starting the engine even before the door was closed. He looked up to the cottage's widow's-walk and saw the imposing figure of a man wearing a captain's hat in the darkness, shaking his fist. Claymore blinked and shook his head as he shifted the car into gear, as if making sure he could believe what his eyes were telling him, but when he looked again, the figure was gone. Not waiting for another not-so-subtle hint from the unseen master of Gull Cottage, Claymore roared down the road and out of sight.

XXX

_"Aaaugh!"_ Claymore Gregg squealed as a tall, good-looking, bearded man, bearing a very menacing expression appeared out of thin air and leaned over his desk.

"What was the idea of that visit of yours last night, you scurvy skinflint!" the apparition bellowed, his handsome face not three inches away from Claymore's bespectacled one. Claymore's watery blue eyes clamped tight shut, but when he opened them, the ghost was still there.

"Wha-what's the meaning of what?" he whined. "Last night, you mean? I... I told you... I leased Gull Cottage so I could pay the back property taxes."

"How dare you cross my threshold at all? Let alone with news like this!"

"T-technically it i-is muh-my th-thr-thresh — doorway, Uncle, Sir," Claymore quaked out.

"For the twelve-hundredth time, I am NOT your uncle." One fist slammed into the desk. "Now, what IS the meaning of this? How dare you let Gull Cottage? And don't you DARE faint on me again!"

"Well, I know you don't like me, much..." Claymore began to explain, shoving his askew glasses back into place. Somehow, they had become dislodged in the last few moments. "But I did have to tell you... I wanted to leave a note, actually... I mean Gull Cottage legally belongs to me, and you actually have no right to — "

"Gull Cottage is MINE, you dolt. How often must I repeat that to get it through your worthless, yet oh, so thick skull!"

"Just as often as I have to remind you that I'm your great-nephew," Claymore muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" the seaman growled, menacingly.

"N-nothing, sir. _Erkk_... As I was saying, I felt it only decent of me to let you know that I've rented out Gull Cottage to a widow — "

"So you said last night. Well now, I'll have the old girl skittering down the beach in a trice," the ghost vowed. "And just what makes you think you can do this? I've been telling you for the last twenty years. I forbid you to rent my home."

"The law gives me the right, Captain!" Claymore protested. "I'm your legal heir, since you didn't leave a will, and I had to rent it, or the county would claim it for back taxes... I told you that last night..."

"You barged into my home, uninvited last night, you worthless sea-slug," Daniel Gregg interrupted.

"But... but Gull Cottage will be torn down or something," the little man argued. "I told you... and I don't think Mrs. Muir is an _'old girl_.' You don't listen to me. She's a young widow, with two small kids, and a dog. And a housekeeper..."

"It just gets worse. Call them. Tell her not to come. If you don't, I'll have the lot of them fleeing in terror — and what will that do your reputation as a real estate agent in Schooner Bay? Mark my words, Claymore."

"You can't do that! They've already paid!"

"I said, call her. Tell her not to come, and send her back her money. I won't have some scrawny, mealy-mouthed widow, her brats, and her domestic help cluttering up my ship."

"I can't!" Claymore wailed again. "I called this morning, just to see... she's already left Philly and is on her way here, I have no WAY to reach her and tell her not to come. Besides, I need her deposit to pay the taxes. I can't give her back her money, so she has to lease the house."

"You find some way to stop her from setting foot on my property, Claymore. You know blasted well you can get that money from somewhere else. Stop holding out on me! If you don't, I will handle things, and you won't like the way I do it!"

"You... you wouldn't..." Claymore paled, and looked up at the tall figure in front of him. Mentally he started calculating. It would be tight, and he didn't want to, and he might live on tuna fish for a month, but MAYBE giving Mrs. Muir back her money could be done... _but, oh, how I hate this!_ he thought.

"Wouldn't I?" his uncle asked rhetorically, before vanishing with a definite pop.

"YOU BIG BULLY!" Claymore yelled to the empty air. "One of these days you are going to scare me once too often... my poor heart can't stand this abuse..."

The only answer he received was an echoing laugh.

Claymore's fit of bravado passed off quickly, leaving him to ponder how to best resolve the situation without getting hurt, or worse, losing the money he valued so highly. He shook his head and looked at the free calendar the bank had given him that past January. Saturday. Mrs. Muir and her family would arrive Saturday. What on EARTH was he going to do?

XXX

The ghost had a feeling his nefarious would-be-nephew would fail to carry out his instructions. Therefore, when he estimated the interlopers were due to arrive on Saturday, as Claymore had said, he went on watch, keeping an eye out. Sure enough, shortly after nine a.m., an automobile began making its way up the road. Grimly, he observed their progress. The aging station wagon, laden to the brim with luggage and other paraphernalia, including two children's bicycles strapped to the roof, seamed to pant as it came to a halt in front of his home. Curiously, he watched as the car doors opened. Two small children, boy and girl, exited the vehicle, followed by a stout middle-aged woman from the front door passenger's side, then a small wire-haired terrier exited and began to yap immediately, and last but not least, an attractive blonde emerged from the driver's seat. He saw her beautiful smile as she gazed up at the house — HIS house.

"Oh Martha..." she cried. "It's ever MORE charming than I imagined! It's perfect! I even like the name! Gull Cottage!"

"Well," Martha responded acidly, "Now that we know where the gulls live, where do we stay? Gull Cottage... why do you suppose it's called that? Gulls roosting... laying eggs on that..." She gestured. "...What is it?" she continued, pointing to the white-railed structure on the roof.

Carolyn glanced up, and for a split second, it looked like a figure was standing there, but when she blinked it was gone. _Trick of the sun,_ she thought.

"That's a widow's-walk," she answered. "They're very common in this area of Maine."

"Why do they call it that?" asked the little girl now standing next to her. "Widow... that's what you are, Mom," she added, matter-of-factly.

"It goes back to... oh, anyway, a hundred years ago, Candy," Carolyn Muir answered. "They were built onto a lot of the houses here near the ocean. Women, wives of sailors, used to walk and observe from walks like these. From them, they could see the entire shoreline, and they could watch and wait for their sailor-husbands to return home, either from a day at sea, or much longer voyages."

"I still don't understand," Candy began. "Why were they so worried?"

"Being a sailor back in those days was a rather wild, dangerous profession," Carolyn continued. "It was… well… very likely that he could be washed overboard, or have any kind of other shipboard accident, like falling from a mast, or getting tangled in a line, or the entire ship could hit a reef, or hit by a wave and sink, and the woman would suddenly find out that they had become a widow; Hence the name, 'widow's-walk'."

"I think that's sad," Candy said, glancing toward the walk once more.

"Hey, there's a ship's wheel on the balcony up there," Jonathan pointed. "I've NEVER seen a house like this before."

"_Nobody's_ ever seen a house like this before," Martha answered. "Of that much, I am sure. Stop pointing, Jonathan," she added. "It's going to take a lot of work to get it all clean and tidy, Mrs. Muir," she continued.

"Where's the beach?" Candy asked, looking around. "Let's go to the beach. You said we could, Mom."

"There'll be time for that, later, sweetie," her mother answered. "We have a lot of work to get done first."

"But, Mom!" Jonathan protested. "We never had a beach practically in our front yard before! You promised we could build a sand castle!"

"Make it three bedrooms and I'll live in it, Jonathan," the housekeeper retorted, reaching over to open the station wagon tailgate.

"Oh... pooh," Carolyn smiled. "This is exactly what I had in mind when I read Mr. Gregg's ad. It's a dear, sweet, gentle, lovely little house. It's perfect. I can't wait to get settled and..."

The roar of a car motor interrupted her as Claymore roared up in his ancient jalopy. Barely putting the car in park at all, he was out of the automobile and near her side almost before the engine stopped.

"Mrs. Muir? Carolyn Muir? I'm your real estate agent, Claymore Gregg..."

"Mr. Gregg!" Carolyn's face brightened even more as she looked at the overstrung-looking man. "I'm very happy to meet you! We just love the house."

"You can't possibly love the house, you haven't even seen it," Claymore answered, barely taking time to shake her hand and Martha's. "Claymore Gregg," he murmured to the housekeeper. "Happy to make your acquaintance." Reluctantly he reached into his pocket and started to hand her a small piece of blue paper. "Here's your deposit back, Mrs. Muir."

"What a wonderful housewarming gift, Mrs. Muir," Martha cut in. "Quick, take it before he changes his mind."

A bewildered expression came over Carolyn Muir's face. "Mr. Gregg, I don't understand."

Claymore gave a quick glance at the house. First to the widow's-walk, and then to the second floor balcony and then turned back to his would-be tenants. "I've... I've taken the house off the market. There's no deal."

"No deal?" The green-eyed blonde repeated blankly. "What on earth do you mean? You can't do that!" She glanced at the house nervously, and then back at the agitated looking man before her. "You've had a better offer! That's it! Right?"

"No-no-no... It isn't like that at all, Mrs. Muir... I..."

"Well, I can't afford to pay any more," Carolyn interrupted. "Besides, we have a signed lease. You can't MAKE me pay more than was originally agreed."

"B-b-but, I simply CAN'T let you rent this house!" Claymore protested.

"Why ever not?" she fired back.

"W-w-well, for one thing..." Claymore started slowly, trying frantically to think up anything to say but the truth, "It's very isolated... way out here... with just the gulls to keep you company. You'll be terribly alone..."

"THAT'S why they call it Gull Cottage," Jonathan added to Martha, as an aside.

"Mr. Gregg, I'm a mother," Carolyn interrupted, giving Claymore another dazzling smile. "I'm almost never _completely _alone! Besides, this house is perfect. I need a little solitary-ness. I'm a writer. I almost, demand isolation at a certain point, don't I, Martha?" she added, turning to the older woman. "I need it to concentrate."

"She gets darn right fussy about it," the woman nodded. "Mrs. Muir, should we start with the suitcases? Candy and Jonathan can help with those without any problems."

"But, Mrs. Muir..." the landlord dissented again, "Nobody else lives out this way, not right now, and it wouldn't be safe here for two women and two small children!"

"Safe from what?" Carolyn asked, looking around at the vast open area around the house, "Seagulls? Besides..." she added. "We have a dog." She nodded at the terrier, who was cowering by the front gate and staring up at the front porch, looking anything but ferocious. "That's Scruffy, Mr. Gregg. And he is, too." Ignoring further protests, the blonde waved away the check still in Claymore's outstretched hand and started making her way toward the front porch. Looking back at the housekeeper, she added, "Yes, Martha. Suitcases first. Then we can start with any cleaning that might need to be done. We do have to have a tidy place to sleep tonight."

As Jonathan and Martha started pulling suitcases from the car, Candy lingered, and knelt down, trying to soothe the nervous pooch. "Come on, Scruffy, come on! There's nothing here! What is it, boy? The lions? They won't bite you... They're friendly lions."

Claymore followed the other three members of the family as they made their way up the stairs and stood by the front door and waited, loaded down with suitcases.

"Really, Mrs. Muir, you won't be happy here," he continued, reaching for the old-fashioned key in his pocket. "The house really does need a lot of repairs, and I did say, anything that has to be fixed is up to you. I never should have leased it! What if..."

"Nonsense," the new lady of Gull Cottage replied. Claymore swung the door open and the small group burst into the foyer. Pale shafts of light, shining through the windows at the top of the first floor landing illuminated the gloomy interior.

"Oh... Martha!" Carolyn inhaled sharply and then exhaled with a small sigh. "Look at it! It's enchanting!"

"Is it?" the housekeeper retorted. "It doesn't look it from where I'm standing."

"It is!" Carolyn insisted, pointing. "Look at those windows! Why they're just like the windows on a ship! They're beautiful!"

"They won't be easy to clean," said Martha. "I hope there's a ladder somewhere around here."

"Uhm... I don't know..." Claymore looked nervous again. "I must admit. It is gloomy and musty."

"Well, that's easy to fix," Carolyn smiled. "We'll just open the windows and air the place out — that's all it needs."

"Oh, never do that!" Claymore gasped. "Never-never-never!"

"Why not?" Martha began. "That's..."

"Well, uh, the winds blow here all the time, and..."

"That's the only way to get rid of the musty smell…" Carolyn began.

"But they blow at more than a hundred miles an hour," Claymore exaggerated.

"Well, then, that's the way to get rid of the house," Martha grinned, clearly not believing the antsy man.

Crossing over to the right, Carolyn reached another doorway. "Nonsense. I know what is good for a house. This much be the kitchen?" she questioned, pushing open the swinging door.

Jonathan regarded his mother and Martha as they disappeared into the next room with Claymore Gregg and wondered idly, but not for very long, where his sister was. _Adults can be so silly.._. he thought. _Who cares about kitchens? I want to see the upstairs... find my room and go look for the room with the ship's wheel on the balcony! Maybe there's even a telescope up there! _On the third step leading upstairs, he stopped. The wind made a soft whistling sound and suddenly he was feeling a light breeze on his face where there shouldn't be a breeze — they hadn't opened the windows there yet. A door on the second floor landing swung open slowly. Resolutely, Jonathan started climbing the stairs once more.

XXX

"This kitchen is GREAT!" Carolyn exclaimed, gazing around the large, old-fashioned, New England room. "It's really lovely!"

"Maybe, if you happen to be a Pilgrim," Martha sniffed, opening the oven door. "Bit on the rustic side, Isn't it, Mr. Gregg? Tell me, you were planning on replacing these old appliances, weren't you?"

"You see?" Claymore started to say, glancing at Carolyn, "Nothing works… nothing…"

"Now, we don't know that yet!" Carolyn answered, refusing to think in anything less than a positive manner. "This kitchen isn't THAT old, and Martha can perform miracles."

"You have the wrong Martha," the housekeeper grinned, pleased with her employer's complement, but not quite so sure of what else was in store. "For this kitchen, you'll need Martha WASHINGTON."

Carolyn grinned back at her friend. "Martha Washington was two-hundred years ago. This house is more like… what? A hundred and ten years old? I'm sure some improvements have been made since it was originally built."

"What's a hundred years?" Martha shot back. "Mr. Gregg, this place DOES have running water, doesn't it?"

The landlord looked insulted. "Of course. My grandfather had plumbing installed. I had the water turned back on the other day… of course there will be probably be problems… buildup in the pipes… maybe a few leaks… I'm sure you won't be at all happy…"

"We'll make do," Carolyn insisted. "I wonder where the children are?" Giving the kitchen another look, she turned and made her way back to the foyer where her daughter was standing in the doorway. Candy looked up at her mother, puzzled.

"Scruffy won't come inside, Mom," she said. "I've been trying and trying. He comes so far, and then stops. I think he's scared of something. Either that, or he just hates the house." She reached out toward the little dog. "Come on, Scruffy, come on!"

"Don't be a snob, Scruffy," Martha added for good measure. "I wonder what's bothering him?"

"Well, see…" Claymore interrupted, clutching at straws. "If your dog isn't going to be happy here, Mrs. Muir, I wouldn't want to hold you to our agreement, besides I do have another little house I am sure you and your family will just love, and it's…"

Carolyn waved his words away. "He'll get used to it. Scruffy isn't a great traveler and animals always take a while to get used to a new place. Besides, _nobody_ is going to tell me what to do. Now let's go see the rest of the house."

XXX

They made their way into the living room, where Carolyn stopped suddenly, gazing at the oil painting over the mantle. Claymore cringed slightly, but Candy, Carolyn and Martha didn't notice. Carolyn looked up at the somehow illuminated painting, almost hypnotized.

_**"What a magnificent man."**_

Candace stared up, almost as fascinated with the painting as her mother. "Yeah… Who IS it? He's… cool."

"That is the original owner of Gull Cottage. My ancestor, Captain Daniel Elias Alexander Gregg," Claymore answered, reluctantly.

Carolyn glanced at him, her eyes saying clearly that she found it almost unbelievable that the same bloodlines could be flowing through the handsome man in the portrait and the jumpy man in front of her.

"He's a relative… of _yours?"_

"Oh yes," Claymore replied. "He's my great… or maybe it's great, great… uncle." There was another slight rumble of thunder that stopped abruptly as Carolyn answered.

"He's very handsome…"

"Handsome is, as handsome does," Claymore said severely. _Why is it that beautiful women never say anything like that about me? _he wondered_. After all, it's true… the Captain and I are related…_

"Well, I am quite sure that Captain Gregg did VERY handsomely," Carolyn answered, giving the portrait another look.

"Yeah, he's mentioned it…" Claymore muttered.

"Hmm?" Carolyn remarked absently.

"Nothing…" Claymore sighed.

"Maybe the Captain would like a little fresh air," Martha remarked, throwing open the shutters.

Candy's blue-green eyes widened as the room brightened a bit more and she made a dive toward the window. "Look, Mom! It's a window seat!" she cried, and immediately she lifted the seat lid. Satisfied that she had missed no treats inside, she closed it again and plopped herself down on it, as if claiming it for her own. "I LOVE this house!"

Meanwhile Carolyn, now that there was more light, was looking around the room a bit more.

"We'll paint these walls sea green… and I can just see some nice frilly curtains at those windows…"

"Captain Gregg isn't… _wasn't_ exactly a 'frilly' kind of man, Mrs. Muir…" Claymore began.

"He WOULD have been, if he had lived with me," Carolyn smiled, then, looking down, she saw her son, Jonathan, quietly making his way into the room, where he stared up at the magnificent portrait. "Jonathan?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"What do you think of him?" she asked quietly.

"Well, he's kinda cross…" Jonathan started. "I'm not sure he wants us here."

Claymore jumped again, realizing that the little boy was speaking in the present tense… that the ghost WAS cross, not LOOKED cross, but Carolyn didn't seem to notice it. She was still gazing at the painting.

"Don't be afraid of the portrait, Jonathan," Carolyn said, smiling. "He just looks that way because he was standing in a stuffy little room, waiting for a man to paint his picture... they didn't have cameras back then. I'm sure what he really wanted was winds in the tropics on a south sea island somewhere — or maybe just a ship's deck rocking under him."

Jonathan shook his head again and stared. "I don't think he likes us."

"But, Jonathan, darling..." Carolyn began again, kneeling in front of her son and sweeping his blonde hair away from his forehead gently. "He's not alive anymore, sweetie. He died a hundred years ago — before any of us were born — even before Grandpa was born."

"I know that," Jonathan said, matter-of-factly. "He told me."

Claymore jumped. "Wha... who... when...?"

Carolyn smiled again, indulgently, and glanced at her landlord. "I encourage my children to use their imaginations... who knows? We may have a best-selling writer in another twenty years."

"But..." Claymore started again, but Jonathan, who seemed to be listening not to him, or to his mother, suddenly shouted out: "The Captain said he wants to see his blasted house shipshape and Bristol fashion!" Breaking away, he scampered out of the room, Candy following.

Martha stared after the little boy, astonished. "Shipshape! Bristol fashion? Jonathan's here ten minutes and already he is trying to sound like an old salt!"

A rich chuckle seemed to fill the room suddenly as a gust of wind came through the now open windows.

"What was that?" Carolyn asked, listening to the sound.

"What was what?" Martha answered, puzzled.

Claymore suddenly looked more alert than scared, and after glancing around the room, he turned back to his would-be tenant. "That's another thing," he said, desperately, grasping at straws. "...The wind... coming down the chimneys... it makes strange noises... it will keep you up all night! You'll never get any rest..."

"The sound of wind, and the wind bringing in the smell of the sea will be a most welcome change from city noises," Carolyn answered. "I can't tell you how tired I am of smog and sirens and honking horns! I'm sure we'll all sleep marvelously."

Scruffy appeared in the doorway at that moment, emitting a low growl, and as the adults listened, they heard the voices of the children outside.

"I better go get those two before they make a run for the beach without us," Martha grinned. "We'll start by getting the kid's bikes untied from the roof of the car, and then you can decide what we'll go after next... cleaning or unloading. We need to do both, but there's more cleaning... Excuse me, Mrs. Muir, Mr. Gregg..." Martha turned and headed for the hall.

"I want to look upstairs," Carolyn said, starting for them. "I really need to see what's there and I need to get my office set up. I have a couple of writing assignments, and..." She was interrupted by Martha's voice, calling to the children.

"Kids! Candy! Stop playing on the lion! It's time to start unloading the car! Jonathan, get out of that tree, immediately!"

Claymore followed Carolyn as she made her way up the steep, cobwebby stairs to the second floor landing, protesting all the way. "Mrs. Muir... slow–slow down..." he panted. "Really, This part of the house should have been condemned years ago... Sheesh... Why don't they make houses with elevators... these stairs are so steep... they're awful!"

"You can't condemn a house just because of the stairs," Carolyn smiled indulgently. "Just yell at the architect. Besides, it will keep us all in shape! It's great exercise." She started toward an open door across the hall and went inside, her eyes making their way around the room. "Well, it needs cleaning," she began, "But this is lovely... the children have never had a fireplace in their room before... I hope it's more for ambiance than warmth! And the lovely built-in bookcases... I brought as many of the children's books as I could... and twin beds, and a double-decker bunk! Great! That means they can have an overnight guest some day, if they want... Tell me..." she glanced back at Claymore, "Was it designed as a nursery?"

Claymore rolled his eyes. "Hardly... Captain Gregg is... was a confirmed bachelor."

"But the silhouettes of the children on the wall..." Carolyn murmured. "I thought... well... what a waste." She gave a small sigh. "Maybe the Captain had planned on having a family and just never found the right woman..."

Claymore followed as she headed down the hall, making her way to another doorway.

"WAIT!" Claymore cried. "Uhm... you can't go in there... that was the Captain's Cabin."

"WAS being the operative word," Carolyn answered. "Thanks for letting me know... It will be my bedroom and office. It's handy to the children's room."

"But..." Claymore cried, now stepping in front of her, barring the door. "Look, you just can't..." His voice was now verging on hysteria. "I've made an awful, DREADFUL mistake... This house is just never going to do for you..."

"It's PERFECT," Carolyn protested, as she ducked under his arm and started to push the door open. "And I want to see my bedroom, please!" Opening the door, Carolyn stepped into the room, Claymore following her like a hurt puppy. "Mrs. Muir, I..." he gulped, hating to say the words. "...I insist you take your deposit back."

"I'll take it back if you insist, Mr. Gregg," Carolyn began. "But you can't talk me out of living here. I love this house. It's a little shabby and dirty at the moment, perhaps, but it can be fixed — you'd be surprised what a little soap and water and elbow grease can do. Besides, it's ideal for Candy and Jonathan..."

"But it's a mile and a half from the school..." Claymore protested, realizing he wasn't getting anywhere. "And the school bus doesn't have a route out this way. Surely..."

"I DO have a car, and they have good bicycles," Carolyn insisted, looking around for a light switch. Not finding one, she opened the curtains in front of the French windows leading to the balcony. "The exercise will be good for them, and I understand Maine doesn't get too much snow before December... at least not very often."

"Mrs. Muir, you aren't listening..."

"What a wonderful, wonderful room!" Carolyn cried, getting a clear look for the first time. "Marvelous! I knew I would love it!"

The room WAS wonderful. Wood paneled throughout, but somehow it did not feel cramped, despite the darkness of the walls. Even at a glance, Carolyn could see all the recessed cabinets for storage. A large double bed with an intricately carved, double-pegged headboard stood at one end, facing the windows, and toward the other end of the room was another fireplace with a gas heater, and a massive desk made of teak. Carolyn smiled, remembering the small desk she had sold back in Philadelphia. _I can fit everything on this desk,_ she thought. _Typewriter, notes, research material... LUNCH if I need to… a coffeepot..._ She continued looking around. A small leather-covered couch stood over to the side, and an oversized, wing-backed chair faced the open windows.

"MRS. MUIR, THERE HAVE BEEN DISTURBANCES HERE!" Claymore said desperately.

"Disturbances?" she answered, puzzled, looking around.

"Noises..." he whispered.

"All old houses have noises," Carolyn soothed. "Creaks and groans, too."

"...And happenings... _things that can't be explained..._" he accentuated.

Carolyn sighed and glanced at the nervous man. _Honestly, _she _thought. He's worse than the kids are after a bad dream!_ "Now you mustn't let your imagination run away with you," she began gently, as if she were talking to her almost six-year-old son. Hoping to distract him, she continued, reaching the window and the telescope and binnacle she found there. "Does the telescope go with the house?" she paused. "Now why does it look...?"

"Y-y-yes..." Claymore interrupted, nervously. "It's stood right where it is now for more than a hundred years..." There was a slight rumble, and he glanced around the room again. "I wouldn't touch that, if I were you..." But he watched as Carolyn ran her fingers along the telescope and stared at them.

"Why, of course! That's it! It's clean!" She looked at Claymore, who was now almost at her side. "There's not a speck of dust... Someone must have polished this..."

Lowering her arm, Carolyn moved toward the bed and looked about at the room that was going to be hers. Surprised, Claymore peered into the telescope, gingerly, and a second later he was walloped by the whirling wand, clunking him on the back of his skull. With a gasp, he grabbed the small end of the telescope, and, peering into it, beheld not the vew, but the vision of a very angry bearded man's face, scowling. He could see the man's lips start to move and a booming voice filled his head, but not his ears: _"Get that blasted female away from my telescope, out of my room and out of my house!"_

Claymore made a mad dash for the door, babbling hysterically. "Cancel the lease! Cancel the lease!" Another chuckle, like the one downstairs, filled Carolyn's ears. She turned, startled. _The wind again_... she thought, and the laughter became louder as she followed Claymore, just in time to see him skid down the stairs, and run smack dab into Martha as she came out from the kitchen from where she was bringing in a load of her favorite pots and pans. Claymore gasped once again and collapsed in a dead faint at the housekeeper's feet.

Astounded, Martha Grant bent over the prone man. "Mr. Gregg! Mr. Gregg! Claymore!" Getting no response, she lowered him to the bottom stair, propping him against a newel post. Carolyn, who by this time was also at the foot of the stairs, took over as Martha made a move once more toward the kitchen.

"Mr. Gregg?" Carolyn started, patting the man on the cheek. "Mr. Gregg..." Claymore moaned slightly and a look of relief passed over Carolyn's face. God forbid they get an overnight guest yet! "Mr. Gregg... you're all right..."

Claymore's eyelids fluttered and he moaned again, then shouted as Martha Grant hit him full in the face with a pitcher of water. "There! Now! Did you here him laugh?"

"It's wind in the chimney," Carolyn said firmly. "You said so yourself."

"It's NOT wind in the chimney. It's HIM in the chimney!"

"Who, him?" Martha asked, bewildered.

"Captain Gregg!" Claymore shouted, jumping up and rushing to the front door. "Mrs. Muir, you haven't got a moment to spare. Get your children and leave!"

"We are NOT leaving," Carolyn said, reaching him.

"Mrs. Muir," Claymore tried again, desperately. "I BEG of you, LISTEN to me! This house is HAUNTED!"

"Nonsense," Carolyn said, unwaveringly. "All it needs is soap and water, and some fresh paint — I even know the color — and we'll soon have this blasted place shipshape and Bristol fashion!" She held out her hand. "The key to my house, please?"

The housekeeper gave Carolyn a startled look at her words, and Claymore's eyes bugged out in horror. Uttering a strangled cry, he fished the old-fashioned key out of his pocket, slapped it in her outstretched palm and leapt out the door, almost falling down the stone stairs again.

Candy and Jonathan looked up in astonishment from where they were putting their bikes on the porch. In moments, he was in his car with the motor running.

"Do-do-don't say I-I didn't warn you, Mrs. Muir... I'll see you in the morning... I'm sure you will have changed your mind by then!" A second later, he had roared off.

"What's the matter with him?" Candy asked, mystified.

"Captain Gregg says he's full of..." Jonathan started, but his mother cut him off.

"JONATHAN!"

"...Bilge and sea water!" the little boy concluded triumphantly.

"Never you mind about bilge-anything," Carolyn scolded, wondering again at Jonathan's sudden penchant for sea terms. "We need to get organized, here. I'll call the hardware store and ask them to send us a painter... I can't wait to see what the walls will look like then! Martha, why don't you see what you can do in the kitchen? That's your territory... Candy and Jonathan, you two start unpacking your things."

"Sweepers, man your brooms!" Jonathan cried. "Clean sweep-down fore and aft!"

"Thank-you, mate," Carolyn grinned. "All hands, turn to!" Everyone rushed for the door, with the exception of Scruffy, who was now back out by the stone gate, growling. Giving the dog an impatient glance, she added, "Scruffy, come on!"

XXX

Housekeeping made the day fly by. Each member of the household did their part to make the house as neat and tidy as possible. Of course, cleaning such an old house did allow for certain moments. Carolyn felt at one point that she was being nudged back down the stairs when her arms were full, carrying in luggage. Martha had to take a short break to soak her fingers in cold water after the mousetrap shut on them while she was cleaning out the cupboards in the kitchen, and Carolyn was doused with soot while she was cleaning the front of the fireplace. However the only real snag in the process, was Mr. Peavey. At first, Carolyn wasn't sure she'd even get the recalcitrant New Englander in the house; then, even after she increased his hourly pay to a formidable two-seventy-five an hour, for some reason, he got 'spooked' and ran out of the house only slightly less hastily than Claymore Gregg!

Carolyn sighed as she watched the unfortunate handyman barrel down the road. Calling to him had done no good whatsoever. Scratching her head, wearily, she came back inside to the living room to where Martha was waiting for her.

"Now, I wonder why he left without saying goodbye? And so quickly? I can't imagine him turning down two seventy-five an hour. Maybe he needs more paint..." She peered at the supplies and the ladder he had left behind on the floor. "No... There's plenty here... surely he said something though... Martha, did he say anything to you?"

The housekeeper shook her head. "Not to me... just seemed to be in a hurry to get through here, that's all."

"Jonathan?" Carolyn turned to her son.

"No, Mom," the boy answered. "He just asked me if I liked the color of the room now and said that sea dogs don't scare him."

"Sea dogs?" Martha questioned, puzzled. "Maybe he meant Scruffy?"

Carolyn shook her head. "I don't know, but surely he'll be back. He's not finished. Why, he still has half the wall over the mantle to do. I suppose I could do it, but there's so much else to do, and I really need to get started on my lighthouse article... that's due in two weeks, and..." The woman stopped, realizing she was panicking over things she had no control over. _That's the ticket, keeping control over my life, _she thought. "Much improved, though, what he has done," she nodded, looking around the room once more and tapping the cap back on the almost full can of paint. "Well, Martha," she said out loud. "How do _you_ like what he's done so far?"

The housekeeper nodded, amiably. "Oh, I love it. Hate the color, but I love it."

"Now what does that mean?" Carolyn laughed.

"I just think a nice yellow would have been better, that's all," Martha answered. "But I love it. The room needed painting, badly."

"I think sea-green suits him," Carolyn said thoughtfully.

"Painter Peavey?" Martha said, only half-listening to her employer.

"No, Martha," Carolyn answered, amused, and nodded to the portrait. "The Captain... Captain Gregg."

"Oh, him... His portrait, you mean."

"Whatever else could I mean?" Carolyn asked, puzzled. Looking up, she gazed at the portrait again for a few moments, and a dreamy look came into her eyes. "I wonder what sort of a man he REALLY was..."

Martha sniffed, looking at the portrait with a jaundiced eye. "Oh, I'd say strong, tall, handsome, knows it, too... courageous, independent, bachelor, rat..." her voice trailed off.

"I think he looks fascinating..." Carolyn continued. "I wonder if there is much written about him in the library? Or maybe I could do a story on him... you know... on spec..."

"I can't imagine who would be interested in an old sea captain," Martha answered. "You must be tired, Mrs. Muir, if you find fellas like these fascinating. Why don't you go upstairs and take a little nap? Your Captain will be here when you wake up."

"Good idea," Carolyn nodded, still staring at the portrait.

"I think I'll round up the kids and see that they take a nap, too," Martha added. "After a little break, we'll be ready to make another small go-round on the house... but I know I can use a rest."

"Thanks, Martha," Carolyn answered, finally tearing her eyes from the portrait. "They'll hate it — they think they are too old for naps, and they wanted to go exploring, but do that, please." Now in the foyer, Carolyn heard Scruffy's whine coming from outside. Opening the door, she stared down at the terrier, amused. "Well, Scruff! It's about time you deigned to make an appearance! Come in and join the family!" Giving a small bark, the terrier complied. Reaching down, Carolyn picked up the little dog and made her way upstairs.

Sighing softly, she opened the door to the master cabin. _It truly IS beautiful_, she thought, seeing her own comforter and linens on the double bed. _I'm sure I will have no difficulty writing here..._ Despite the fact that it was only mid-afternoon, a chill had settled over the room and a slight bit of fog from the sea had actually crept into the windows.

"Can't have this, now can we, Scruffy?" the tired woman murmured. "Down, boy." Obediently, the little dog jumped out of her arms, up on the ottoman by the wing-backed chair next to the fireplace, turned around three times and curled up there.

Deciding not to mess the freshly made bed yet, Carolyn closed the French doors, turned up the gas heater in the fireplace and sank into the wing-backed chair, and covered herself with a small afghan. She drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

Only Scruffy saw what came next. A few moments later, the dog rose from his seat on the ottoman, his hair bristling and teeth bared into a snarl. The dog's growl caused Carolyn to stir slightly as the tall figure of a man appeared in front of her. One gesture from the specter and Scruffy was silent. Waving one hand, the sea captain unbolted and opened the French windows slightly, then turned off the gas heater that Carolyn had so recently turned on. Scowling, he looked down at the sleeping woman in front of him.

"Rest well Mrs. Muir," he rumbled. "You, my dear, will need all your strength. It's high winds and uncharted reefs ahead for you, your salty maid, your unmanageable children and your cowardly little mongrel." Giving her one last contemptuous look, he slowly disappeared.

XXX

Carolyn woke an hour later, clenching her teeth against the cold, and shivering.

Forcing her eyes open, she called out to Martha, who appeared almost instantly, bearing a pot of coffee on a tray.

"I wasn't sure if you would be awake yet," Martha said, putting the tray down on the low table in front of the chair. "You could have slept a while longer. The kids woke up about twenty minutes ago. Jonathan is working in the living room and Candy with me, in the kitchen."

"I could have slept longer," Carolyn mumbled, taking a cup from the tray. "I had a nice dream..."

"You did? What about?"

"I can't remember..." Carolyn answered, a bit dazed. "I feel like I've only been asleep a few minutes... the cold woke me up."

"No wonder, going to sleep with the windows open," Martha scolded her. "What were you thinking of? You don't want to make yourself sick."

"I thought I DID close them," Carolyn answered, puzzled. "I was almost sure I did..."

"Well, they're closed now," Martha said, shutting them with a bang. "Just in time, too... the wind has been blowing like crazy and there's a storm brewing. If this keeps up..." Thunder boomed, and both women jumped. "...Like I said, this keeps up, we could all have trouble sleeping later on tonight... I don't do well with thunderstorms."

"Maybe it will pass quickly," said Carolyn, glancing outside. "It is windy, though! Just look at the branches on that ugly old tree sway! It looks like the top could break right off..."

"Maybe," Martha nodded. "Well, why don't you freshen up a bit and come downstairs? Supper will be ready shortly. Much as I hate it, I did bring along a few cans of canned clam chowder... mine is better, you know... and I'm planning on grilled ham and cheese to go with it."

XXX

The next two hours were taken at a more leisurely place than the ones before dinner. Jonathan finished dusting the living room, while Candy did the foyer. Then he and Candy together folded the drop cloths and rags that Mr. Peavey had left behind while Martha cleaned the brushes with turpentine and Carolyn moved the ladder to the alcove. Martha especially seemed confident that the painter would be back the next day, or surely by Monday to finish the job he had started. Carolyn worked a little more, straightening, and Martha herself finished what she could in the kitchen, announcing that laundry would have to wait until the next day, as the washer seemed to be broken. Carolyn read to the children for a while, Jonathan demanding _Treasure Island _or _Robinson Crusoe, _but by seven, their eyes were drooping, and without preamble, Carolyn announced bedtime. There wasn't much argument.

Jonathan perked up a bit when they all went upstairs and Carolyn began the tucking-in process. Of course, the weather, as Martha pointed out earlier, was not helping. Rain hit the windows in sheets and thunder boomed. Privately, Carolyn wondered if the kids would make it through the night in their room, or would they come running into her room to "keep Mom company," as they had done so often in Philadelphia, especially right after Robert had died.

"Well, you two are going to sleep wonderfully tonight," she said, giving Jonathan's sheet another tuck, and then kissing him on the forehead. "You've had a big, big, day… and I want to thank you for all your hard work! You did a great — "

Suddenly, the lights went out.

"It's Captain Gregg! It's Captain Gregg!" Jonathan whooped in delight, popping up from his pillow once more,

"It's only a power failure, Jonathan," Carolyn said calmly, moving over to the side table. Taking a book of matches from her pocket, she struck one and lit the candle there. "You have to expect things like this in an old house… that's why I put so many candles around."

Jonathan nodded at the candles approvingly. "Captain Gregg hates electric lights."

"Now, how would YOU know?" Candy asked, propping her head on her hand and elbow and giving her brother a look that said _'I know more than you do.'_

"He TOLD me," Jonathan answered simply.

"When?" Candy asked.

"Today," the little boy answered. "We visited in the attic for a little bit when you were busy helping Martha."

"Yeah, right," said Candy. "You were ducking out on chores, and now you're just trying to scare me. Well it won't work. Mom, make him stop!"

"Stop trying to scare your sister, Jonathan," Carolyn said reprovingly.

Jonathan looked immediately contrite. "I'm sorry… Good night, Candy."

"Good night, Jonathan," his sister answered, leaning back on her pillow, but a moment later, her head came back up again. "And I'm not afraid of ghosts… I just don't want to talk about them right before bed… not with all that thunder out there." Another boom punctuated her last word, and Jonathan looked up toward the ceiling.

"Goodnight, Captain Gregg!"

"M-o-o-o-m-m," He's doing it again!" said Candy.

"Jonathan, stop it!" Carolyn pleaded. _This day was never going to end._

"Don't tell me, tell the Captain!" Jonathan answered, reasonably. "He's doing it!"

"Stop it, Captain, wherever you are," Candy chimed in, deciding to humor her brother. "You can make it rain when it's time for school… then we won't have to go."

"Not a chance," Carolyn smiled. "You've already missed a week because of our moving and all. Come Monday, school. Now, enough. I want you both to go to sleep!" Giving her daughter a kiss, she headed toward the door. As an afterthought, she looked up toward the ceiling. "You, too, Captain Gregg!" Another boom of thunder answered her and Jonathan turned to his sister.

"Ghosts can't sleep… Isn't that sad?"

"Uh huh," his sister answered. "It is… but I can, and I'm sleepy, Jonathan… you can tell me more about Captain Gregg tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," her brother agreed.

Within minutes, both were asleep.

XXX

Carolyn descended the stairs and was greeted by Martha, announcing that Claymore Gregg was on the line. Bidding the housekeeper goodnight, Carolyn picked up the old-fashioned phone. Within minutes, she had been disconnected, and she shook her head wonderingly as she hung up the receiver. _How on earth could it be raining and storming at Gull Cottage when Mr. Gregg said that it was completely clear in town? Something isn't right here… and… and what if Jonathan…? I need to batten down the_ _hatches,_ she thought, making her way to the living room. _Now,_ _where did THAT expression come from? _She found herself staring at the Captain's portrait again. It seemed… illuminated somehow, which was odd, because with the power being out, she held the only light in the room… a candle.

"Someone must be trying to scare me for some reason," Carolyn said out loud, crossing to the open window. "Blasted storm… I thought I closed that…" _Could there be? No…_ _maybe... _Taking a deep breath, she turned and faced the darkness. _Maybe…_ "I know you're there…" she started, but her only answer was the sound of the wind. "I said… I KNOW you're there!"

Turning around toward the window she just latched, she watched as the lock turned and the window slid open. The wind and rain rushed in. Gasping, she forced the window closed again and turned the latch once more.

"Stop that!" she cried. "You'll ruin the furniture!" Reaching into her pocket for matches, she re-lit the candle the wind had blown out. Within seconds, the window was open again, and her candle out once more. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she faced the darkness. "You are behaving like an adolescent! Stop it. If you have something to say, just say it." Reaching for her matches, she added; "If there's anything I hate, it's a COWARDLY ghost."

BANG.

Carolyn gave a small cry as the window slammed shut, and a voice came straight into her head.

_"Light the candle."_

Carolyn stared at the portrait, dumbstruck, and the rich, deep voice came again.

_"Blast it, woman! I said, light the candle!"_

Fumbling, Carolyn started to do as the voice commanded, and as she lit the match, a tall figure stepped out of the darkness. There was no sound in the room at all until the flame on the match reached her fingers. "Ouch…" Hurriedly, she blew it out and lit another match, and then the candle. Holding it out toward the spirit to get a better look, she managed to croak out: "C-C-Captain… Gregg?"

"Aye," the spirit answered an icy tone to his voice. "Madam, you called me cowardly. That was not only rude, it was inaccurate."

"Well…" Carolyn started, embarrassed. "I didn't really expect you to hear me, I…"

"I may have been a _scoundrel_, but I was never a coward," the spirit went on, as if Carolyn hadn't spoken at all.

"Your nephew, Claymore Gregg, SAID you were here, but…" Carolyn started, but the ghost interrupted her once more.

"MY NEPHEW!" he roared. "That spineless toad? That miserable wart? Him? Related to me? NEVER! I'm the only son of an only son… I've never met his blasted grandmother in my life. I've tried to tell him that for twenty years, but every time he sees me, he faints… done it since he was a child!" He looked at the woman before him up and down, thoughtfully. "Well, that's one thing I'll say for you, at any rate. You haven't fainted… yet."

"You're disappointed?" Carolyn asked, sarcastically.

Folding his arms over his chest, the spirit stared at her. "Cheeky, too. Don't push me, Madam."

Mimicking his movements, Carolyn did the same. "Don't tell me what to do."

The spirit went on. "I've been easy on you, so far, because you've said a few... intelligent things since you've been here. Damned unusual thing for one of your sex."

Carolyn turned pink in the darkness, remembering her reaction to the spirit's portrait that morning. _Blast good-looking men!_ she fumed. _Bobby was the same way… handsome… and an ego two stories tall. Well, I won't be talked to like this…_

"Obviously living alone you have forgotten a few things about being around people. Don't swear." She gazed at him defiantly for a moment, then added. "It's obvious you don't like women."

"It's impossible to LIKE women," he answered loftily. "Love them yes, like them, no. And my dear woman, if you think I am swearing now, it's a good thing you can't read my thoughts!"

"Ohhh!" she cried, "You must have been an aggravating man!"

"Perhaps, to women," he drawled, moving toward the fireplace. "I was never put by the fireside, like a pet poodle…" He paused. "Though many women _tried_."

Inwardly Carolyn's eyes rolled at the comment and the overwhelming ego of the specter before her. "Some men don't seem to mind… and I suppose _you _had a girl in every port, like most sailors I've heard tell of."

Captain Gregg's eyes lit up. "Ten — twenty — half a hundred, if I wanted them!_ I was a HELL of a man!"_ He scowled. "And it's seaman, not sailor! Sailor is a landlubber's word."

_What a braggart!_ Carolyn thought, though, reluctantly, she could understand the attraction. "So you were murdered by a jealous husband, no doubt then."

"No…" the spirit said, turning back to the flames for a moment and holding his hands out to the blaze. Then he turned back to face her. "I kicked the blasted gas heater on in my blasted sleep. It was broken… There was a gale from the Sou-west, so I had the windows closed as any sensible man would. The gas didn't shut off, and I inhaled it and… well, you can guess that part. The damned coroner's jury brought in a verdict of suicide because Mrs. McLir, my blasted cleaning woman, testified that I always slept with my windows open." He shook his head and the thunder outside grew louder. "Now how the devil would SHE know how I slept? I never slept with her! Besides…" He paused and surveyed Carolyn's blushing cheeks, evident even in the darkness. "…Besides, she looked to be a hundred and ten years old, and she had a wart on her nose!"

"Please, don't yell…" Carolyn began, determined not to let the ghost embarrass her.

"Oh, the children can't hear me…" the spirit smiled. "But they can hear you… You're mortal. No one can see or hear me unless I wish it."

"I see…" Carolyn answered, moving quickly to close the living room door leading to the hall and Martha's room. "Well, now that we have moved in, I assume you will be kind enough to do your… haunting… elsewhere."

The ghost looked truly astounded at the woman's remark. "Elsewhere? ELSEWHERE?" he sputtered. "You do your LIVING elsewhere! This is MY house!"

"But… but…" Carolyn began, doing her best to be reasonable. "I've rented your house. I've signed a two-year lease and paid the first and last month's rent, and…"

"You didn't pay it to me," he growled.

"No, that's true. I paid it to your nephew, and…"

"HE IS NOT MY NEPHEW!" the Captain roared, furious. "Now see here. I put my life savings into this house! Designed and built it practically with my own hands! I planned on living in it to a ripe old age and then it was to be a home for retired seamen."

"Then you should have left a will saying so!" Carolyn retorted angrily.

"I DIDN'T LEAVE A WILL!" the ghost roared again.

"Why not?" she answered swiftly. "Most intelligent people do…"

"I AM intelligent!" the seaman bellowed. "But I hadn't planned on kicking the BLASTED gas on with my BLASTED foot!"

"It's not MY fault that you kicked the BLASTED gas with your BLASTED foot!" Carolyn shouted back. "And stop yelling at me! Everyone is always yelling at me and telling me what to do, and I'm not taking it any more!" Impotent with rage, she paced the room. "BLAST, BLAST, BLAST!"

The spirit had the grace to look startled. "Blast is NOT a lady's word, Madam."

"I don't care whether it is or not, and YOU can't tell me what to do!" she shouted. "And this is all too ridiculous. Ghosts do NOT exist! You are just a figment in some weird delusion I am having because I'm tired."

"I AM here, and this is MY house," the Captain continued, stubbornly. "And I am no delusion."

"It's your nephew's house, and he lied to me about you," Carolyn answered, equally stubborn. "I don't know who I am more angry at… you or him."

"For that you would have to stand in line," the seaman chuckled, and looked thoughtful. "Well, I suppose you could stay… on a trial basis, naturally. You keep your sails trimmed, and — "

The beautiful woman looked at the spirit, dumbfounded. "You're putting ME — my family on trial! Why that's ludicrous. I can't live here with a… a…" she broke off swallowing the word 'Man.' Collecting herself, she added. "Now, we are here. You need to go. How soon can you… um… pack?"

"Pack!" The Captain was shouting again. "Me? I'm going nowhere!"

"But…" Carolyn stuttered. "We can't all live here as one big happy family! What will I tell Martha? What will the neighbors think?"

"You are NOT turning me out on the beach!" The spirit was shouting again. "I said you could stay on trial. I am being reasonable and fair. You want me to leave my house… that is unreasonable and unfair! You'll be rearranging the furniture next!"

"I hadn't even thought about that!" Carolyn shot back. "But now that you mention it, that's a great idea!"

"This is my house and I am staying here… ALONE! Work out your petty problems about your petty deposit with Claymore. HE has your money, not I!" The ghost snorted. "The smartest thing I ever did was remain a bachelor! GOOD-BYE, MRS. MUIR!" With a hiss, the spirit was gone, and Carolyn looked around, startled.

"Captain Gregg! Captain Gregg! Don't you dare decompose… disappear… dematerialize… whatever you call it… on me!" No answer came, just the roaring of the wind and another flash of lightening. "CAPTAIN!" Carolyn looked about the dark room, frustrated, then looked up at the portrait of the seaman. His blue eyes now looked like they were mocking her. "Very well!" she said, frustrated beyond belief. "If this is your final word, we'll start packing right away!" As she started out of the room, she stumbled over something in the dark. "Urg!" she groaned. "You might at least have left a light on!"

As she left the room, a tear trickled down her cheek. _So near… so darned close…_ She sighed to herself. _This place felt so blasted RIGHT…Well, no one is going to boss me around, and no ghost is going to get the better of me… just wait until I talk to that Claymore Gregg!_

XXX

END PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Martha and the children were understandably befuddled when Carolyn announced in the middle of the night that they were leaving Gull Cottage, but there was a look in Carolyn's eyes that brooked no arguments. If she said they were leaving, then there must be a good reason.

Fortunately, they were able to get a room at the only hotel Schooner Bay had, and then settled down for the second time that night. At least, Martha, Candy, and Jonathan did. Carolyn could not shut her mind off and sleep. She just hoped Mister Gregg wasn't kidding about having another cottage available. This extra room expense was bad enough, but she'd also had to put up a deposit to cover Scruffy staying in their room. That little fur-ball had better be good, or she was out twenty-five dollars.

Bright and early Sunday morning, Carolyn rose quietly and dressed. Leaving her family still dozing, she made her way to Claymore Gregg's office. She observed a few people heading toward the church, but somehow doubted the landlord was among them. For a second, Mrs. Muir wondered if she should have awakened the kids and attended services, but they were all exhausted, and she was too upset and angry to even hear a sermon, much less let it penetrate her mind.

Drawing all her anger and courage together, she knocked on the faded door — determined to not leave until she had an un-haunted home.

XXX

"Wha-what?" Claymore groaned, coming to consciousness. "Who's there?" He moaned again. "Captain? Is that you?" He opened one eye, warily. No ghost hovered over him, but the pounding continued, and adding to it was the ringing of his front door bell.

"Just-just a sec!" he called, bounding out of bed, not even bothering to put on his glasses. As he made his way to the front door, he shouted. "Hold on! Hold on! Don't break down the door!" Reaching the entrance, he opened it, where his myopic gaze met Carolyn's angry one.

"Oh… it's you, Mrs. Muir…" he started, barring her entry. "Look, can you come back later? As you can see, I'm not dressed, and I…"

"I don't care HOW not dressed you are," she blazed. "I've seen men in pajamas before, even loud ones like yours…" She paused. "I want to talk to you, and I want to talk to you NOW."

"But-but I'm not decent…" he cut in. "And someone will see you come in here…"

Carolyn looked around briefly. The older couple she had seen earlier, heading for the church was gone, and at the moment the street was deserted.

"There's no one out here right now, Claymore," she answered. "But if you don't let me in, I will stay here and pound on this door and call you every name I can think of, and if I do that, what will the townspeople of Schooner Bay think of you?"

"All-all right," he stammered, peering outside, albeit fuzzily, to see if what the irate woman had said about no onlookers was true. "But you'll have to give me a minute or two to get dressed."

XXX

Carolyn sat in Claymore's office, steaming while the landlord clothed himself. Finally after taking as long as he possibly could in hopes that the angry blonde would calm down, he reemerged from his living quarters, two cups of coffee in hand.

"Now…" he began, trying to look cheerful. "I brought you some coffee… hope you take it black… What can I do for you today, Mrs. Muir?"

"Don't give me that innocent act, Claymore!" she answered. "You know perfectly well what is the matter!"

Claymore closed his eyes, dreading what was coming. "Oh, you mean…"

"Yes," she snapped. "That's exactly what I mean! Mister Gregg, Gull Cottage is haunted!"

"Bu-bu-but Mrs. ... Mrs. Muir," he stammered. "I did tell you that yesterday, and I…"

"I mean it's REALLY haunted!" she went on.

"I-I know it is," he answered tiredly. "By my great-uncle, the one I told you about…"

"Mister Gregg, you had no right to rent me a haunted house."

"I was desperate, Mrs. Muir," Claymore mumbled. "You see, the property taxes were…"

Carolyn cut him off again. "I don't want any excuses! What's the big idea? You promised me a nice, quiet house for me, my kids and Martha — where I could be off by myself and write and make a decent attempt at earning a living!"

"I'd love to read something you've written," Claymore interrupted, trying his best to look cheery. "Do you write stories? I love good stories — one of my favorite writers is Sylvester Strathstone… he writes the Don Speed books… I just started one called _Don Speed and the Electronic Bird_, and…"

"I am NOT interested in your reading habits, Mister Gregg," Carolyn retorted. "As I was saying, I rented your house, and what do I get? A house that hasn't been lived in for years, a big cleaning project, and then... then! Just as I get us all settled for the night, I am haunted by an overbearing, egotistical, aggravating, irritating, and exasperating ghost!"

"Well, I DID try to tell you!" the landlord protested.

"No, you didn't… you never came right out and said…"

"Yes I did!"

"Okay, you did, but you didn't say it loud enough, and…"

"I take it, you met him?" Claymore asked. "I thought maybe you would get discouraged and leave before he went that far."

"Yes, and I have never met a more infuriating, aggravating, insufferable…"

"Yeah, that's him," Claymore nodded. "I've been dealing with him off and on since I was twelve."

"Well, I have no intention of putting up with behavior like his for even twelve minutes." Carolyn's voice was rising again. "I've had ENOUGH of that behavior from men in the last few years! I demand restitution!"

"What do you mean, restitution?" Claymore blanched.

"I want my money back," she answered simply.

"But, Mrs. Muir, I..." he began, but she interrupted him again.

"Don't "but" me. I want my deposit back, and I want reimbursement for having to rent a hotel room last night, AND the gas money it took to get here!"

Claymore moaned. This was getting worse and worse every minute. Dealing with Carolyn Muir was every bit as difficult as dealing with Daniel Gregg.

"But, I can't give you back your money..."

"What do you mean?" she demanded. "My deposit was supposed to stay in the bank in escrow! It's a deposit! Not profit! You were ready to give it back yesterday! Un-spend it, blast it!"

Claymore was startled at "blast," but decided questioning the irate woman's choice of words was not a good idea. The wheels started turning in his head. In the cold light of day, with no ghost breathing down his neck, the thought of losing money hurt more than it did when fear was his prepossessing thought.

"I... I can't," he stammered. "You don't understand. The government has it. I used it to pay the back taxes on Gull Cottage. That was the only reason I rented the place to you to begin with. I had to. You are supposed to live there…"

"I can't live there. A ghost lives there!" she answered, her voice starting to rise again.

"Shh!" Claymore looked toward the front door, hoping that no one could hear. "Ghosts don't LIVE, Mrs. Muir..."

"You know what I mean..." she shrugged. "He doesn't want us at Gull Cottage, and he wouldn't leave, even though I DO have a signed lease, so I left."

Claymore sighed. Somehow he thought that when he hadn't heard from the woman within two hours of her arrival and his subsequent departure from Gull Cottage that his great-uncle may have softened. _I should have known better._ _I should have known after all these years I couldn't pull anything over on Daniel Gregg… _Giving Carolyn another look, he started calculating. _I didn't become the chief land baron of Schooner Bay merely by inheriting my property. Can I possibly get something by Carolyn Muir?_

"Mrs. Muir, I simply can't give you your money," he said firmly. "I don't have it, I tell you. I put the check for the taxes in the mail yesterday. Besides, your lease does say that a refund will not be paid unless..."

"I don't care what the lease says!" Carolyn was shouting now. "My family is not going back to Gull Cottage and I am not spending one more night in a hotel!"

"Couldn't you just kind of… go back and ignore him?" Claymore began. "You know, wear earplugs, or something?"

Carolyn gave him an incredulous look. "YOU did say you have _met _him, right? That ghost is NOT someone you can ignore!"

"Well, of course I have met him," Claymore pouted. "I was a boy, and…"

"…And to answer your question, no, I can't just kind of ignore him," Carolyn interrupted him. "Staying there with all his thundering and blasting and booming is like living in a bowling alley! Now you come up with something fast, or I'll go out to the middle of the town square and tell them precisely what kind of business you run! How would you like that?"

Giving the beautiful, irate woman another look, Claymore decided she meant it, and charted a different course. "I… I might be able to come up with some money in a week or so," he started. "You see, I figured you were staying — that Captain Gregg was kinda going soft, so like I said, I paid the taxes. Then I took the money I WAS going to refund you and I used that to pay the current taxes on… " He stopped as if hit by a sudden idea. "Well come to think of it…"

"Yes?"

"Well, I do have..."

"Have what?"

"Well, I do have another house for rent. It's just a titch smaller, and..."

"Oh? And is there a ghost there, too?" she asked, sarcastically.

"I've never heard of any," Claymore shrugged, not reading her sarcasm. "It's located about half a mile from Gull Cottage. Past it, actually."

Carolyn looked doubtful. "What's it like?"

"Well…" Claymore hesitated. "There would be room for all of you… one room for you — it's not as big as the master cabin at Gull Cottage, though. There'd be a little one for Miz Grant, one for the kids to share… no guestroom. Living room, one bathroom, laundry porch — couple of unfinished areas, cellar and what-not, but it's completely wired, and all and there's sort of a little lake in back."

"Would I have privacy to write?" she asked. "That's very important."

"Yes," Claymore nodded. "The only other house up that way is Gull Cottage and since nobody is living there..." he paused. "Well you know what I mean. There would be nobody to bother you."

"I don't know…" Carolyn shook her head. "…After yesterday, all that housework, it might be easier to take my deposit and go look for some place in Keystone or Pripet."

Claymore looked defensive again.

"Now Mrs. Muir, the lease you signed does specifically state that if our deal is cancelled that I have thirty days before giving you back your money. I'm afraid that if you don't take me up on this, which I DID try to offer you yesterday, I just won't be able to refund you anything for a month. That's more or less standard. And the cottage I am offering you does come furnished, too…"

Exhaustion, anger, and failed hopes threatened to crush Carolyn in a vise grip. She really did not want to go back to Philly. Too many bad memories haunted her as effectively as the ghost. And she could not take all the cloying sympathy; much less Ralph's overbearing manner of "doing what was best for you and the children." She could almost hear the "I told you so's" that would greet her return. She simply HAD to get away from their influence! Besides, if this weasely looking man wouldn't return her money, what choice did she have? Lawyers to fight him would cost more money that she did not have to spend.

"Is it as unkempt as Gull Cottage was? I mean, before we arrived yesterday? We did do a lot of work there, you know."

"No… well, yeah, kinda, I've been trying to sell it as is. It may need just a few things…"

"Then you are responsible for the repairs," she stated.

"Mrs. Muir," Claymore's voice took on an argumentative tone. "I can't possibly manage to do that and pay the taxes on both places. Gull Cottage, well you know… I can't sell it, I can't rent it and I can't tear it down or he might become a disposed ghost and start haunting ME."

"Well I'm not going to pay for all the repairs!" Carolyn said, aghast. "I don't even know what kind of shape this cottage is in!"

"You didn't know what kind of shape Gull Cottage was in either," the landlord answered logically.

She nodded. "True… okay. If I think we can make do for a while until I get my writing underway. I'll pay HALF of the bills on any repairs that are needed."

"But you won't ask for more than fifty dollars off the rent, to cover for repairs in any one month?"

"Right. But only on normal maintenance items," Carolyn bargained. "If the washer dies, or there is a hole in the roof, or the gutters need replacing, you either fix them, or replace them at your expense."

"Deal," Claymore said, wiping his brow. It was really too early for heavy negotiating. He hadn't even had his breakfast.

"Okay," Carolyn nodded. "You have a key, I trust. Does this place have a name, too? Like Gull Cottage?"

"Albatross Manor. I named it myself," he preened. "Kinda goes along with the sea motif in the area, don't you think? And like I said, it's about a half a mile past Gull Cottage. Kinda set away from the road, so the beach is a little further away…"

"Fine," she nodded again. "Let's go see it."

XXX

Normally, Candy and Jonathan Muir would have been thrilled to miss school for another two days, but staying home to help move into a house they didn't like was not a good impromptu vacation. Albatross Manor immediately proved it was aptly named. After treading on the front steps once too often, Martha was forced to stop everything and fix one of them. The much-anticipated hot baths were delayed until Mrs. Muir could repair the hot water heater. Fortunately, Claymore did live up to his end of the deal and provided a newer-used washer/dryer set when the clunkers that came with the place proved useless.

When the kids were able to go to school, their fame preceded them. No one had stayed in Gull Cottage for any length of time, so the Muir children had a bit of star status right off the bat. One or two of their schoolmates did sneer that they must have gotten scared off, but they were ignored.

Two weeks seemed to crawl by and fly by at once. Each day was a new challenge in the way of a repair that needed to be made, or something that needed to be cleaned. Only Carolyn's stubborn streak prevented her from giving in when her parents and former in-laws both called within days of each other, begging her to come home.

In the meantime, the Captain's life, or afterlife, was not faring so well.

One afternoon, about two weeks after the Muir family had moved in, and out, of Gull Cottage, the ghost found himself unable to concentrate on anything. The spirit hadn't touched his sea charts in days (if spirits recognized days) and he found himself almost irresistibly drawn to his telescope on the second floor balcony, watching not the sea before him, but the road in front of Gull Cottage.

"Everything has been so... quiet lately," he mused. Then, throwing his hands in the air, he burst out: "If only she weren't such an unmanageable female! The idea! Telling me to pack my bags! I'm a spirit! I don't HAVE bags! And Gull Cottage is my home! I did the gentlemanly thing... I told her she could stay! But that _did not_ mean that I would go!"

The ghost dematerialized from the balcony and roamed through his 'ship,' invisibly. The cleaning the Muirs had done was still quite evident. Materializing, he glowered at the half-painted living room.

"Well, one thing I'll give her, she did run a taut ship... and sea green does suit these walls..." he admitted, albeit grudgingly. "...It brings out the colors in my portrait, and it does make the room look better. I almost regret scaring that painter away. Blast... If that woman wasn't so unreasonable, I might even miss her, but..."

"Jonathan! Stop! Hold on a sec!" a frantic voice called.

In a moment, the ghost was on the porch of Gull Cottage, invisibly, surveying the sight in front of him.

A little girl had leaned her bike against the stone wall bordering the front of Gull Cottage, and as he watched, a boy came back from further up the road, facing her. _They looked familiar,_ he thought. _Could they be...? It is! Jonathan and Candace... HER children! Now whatever could those two want now?_

"What is it, Candy?" Jonathan inquired.

"My papers came loose!" she fumed, making a dive for the sheets that were now blowing across the road. "Blast it!" she shouted. "Stupid thing..." Gathering the last of them and taking the ones her brother had gathered, she snapped the book clip around the bunch securely. "This clip keeps coming loose. It's the bumpy road."

Curiosity getting the better of him, the seaman ventured invisibly a bit closer, now standing near his beloved monkey-puzzle tree, and watched the two children, who were now staring up at his house.

"I bet Gull Cottage is lonesome now," Jonathan said, sadly.

"Mom says houses don't get lonesome," Candy intoned, standing next to him and leaning against the stone fence.

"Well, I think they do," Jonathan maintained. "I think Gull Cottage felt a lot less lonesome after we moved in."

"Maybe," Candy sighed. "I know Gull Cottage made ME feel less lonesome."

"Martha says it reminded her of Halloween," Jonathan went on.

"Not me," Candy said, staunchly. She sighed again. "Ya know, Jonathan, I was kinda hoping that maybe Mom might change her mind after we saw Albatross Manor for the first time, but she didn't. So now I guess we'll never see the inside of Gull Cottage again."

"It sure was a neat place," Jonathan mourned.

"Yeah, it was," Candy nodded. "I loved the window seat. Our house now doesn't have one."

"Yeah, just a broken window," her brother added. "Mom doesn't know when she is going to get that fixed."

"And don't forget the back door you have to slam to close," Candy added, making a face. "If you don't do it just right, it blows open in the middle of the night."

"I don't mind that too much," Jonathan said, "But the toilet in the bathroom! It won't stop running. Mister Gregg said he was going to fix it last week, but he hasn't yet. The noise is driving me bonkers!"

"Well, Mom says she can fix it," Candy interrupted. "But she just hasn't had time... she's been so busy." She looked up at the house thoughtfully. "Albatross Manor just doesn't feel like home, like Gull Cottage did."

"That's 'cause Captain Gregg didn't move with us," Jonathan maintained.

If anyone could have seen the spirit's face at that moment, they would have seen his startled expression.

Candy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Jonathan... really!" she started, then paused. "You really think so?" she asked, turning to her brother, giving him a look that clearly said her question was a serious one.

"Uh huh," the boy answered. "I do." He looked up at the sky. "We better get going, Candy."

"I guess it really is the end of Gull Cottage," she said sadly, suddenly looking close to tears. "Come on, Jonathan," she continued, mounting her bike once more.

"Okay, Candy," Jonathan sighed, then, after getting on his own bike, he turned back and gave the house one last look. "G'bye, Captain Gregg."

The ghost of Gull Cottage looked after them pensively.

XXX

The next day, the ghost of Gull Cottage found himself waiting on the balcony of his 'ship' at three o'clock, just about the time that the children had shown up the day before. Sure enough, they did, but as their dog ran up to greet them, they only shouted their hellos to the terrier and sailed by the old house. Disappointed, the Captain vanished, grumbling, to his wheelhouse where he worked until late… or what would be considered late, by mortal's standards.

Day after day, the spirit watched the children ride by after school, but as in the previous days, they went straight past, once or twice giving the house a fast look, but never stopping.

Then one day, near the end of the second week of October, as the spirit paced his 'bridge,' a.k.a. the widow's-walk, he watched as they went by his house yet again. To his surprise, Candy stopped. Curious, he immediately dematerialized and materialized unseen near the stone gate.

_I could almost say hello to them,_ he thought. _But I suppose I better not… I wonder what they…?_

"Hold on, a sec, Jonathan," Candy called. "I need to zip my coat."

Sighing, the boy turned around and came back.

"Told you, you should have done that earlier, Candy," the boy said, pleased to be 'one up' on his big sister. "It's getting colder in the afternoons now."

Candy shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but I start up the hill, and I get hot pedaling, and then we get on flat ground and I cool off, and..."

"…And you get cold," Jonathan cut her off.

"Uh-huh," Candy nodded, getting her coat fastened at last. "Stupid zipper keeps sticking." Breaking off, she looked up toward the house and she gave a little sigh. "Gull Cottage was closer to town, too."

"Well, it's only another half a mile," her brother answered, trying to look cheery. "That's not very far, and it's not _really_ cold out."

Candy's face brightened. "Yeah, and Mister Gregg did say maybe we'll get to take a school bus after Christmas when the snow starts."

"But, what if it starts BEFORE Christmas?" Jonathan asked, his voice taking on a slightly plaintive tone.

"Hope that means we'll get one then," Candy answered, ever-practical. "At least on the snowy days."

Jonathan looked happier. "Yeah, or Mom'll come get us. Or Martha. It's just right now Martha's working extra hard, trying to get the place fixed up."

"And Mom's busy writing," Candy nodded. "And Martha's helping her. We don't want to be extra trouble… we can manage for a while. And my teacher says the Farmer's Almanac says this year the snow won't start until late this year. So no bugging the grown-ups. They have enough to worry about."

It was Jonathan's turn to sigh. "Besides, next week Mom's taking that job in town at the Schooner Bay Beacon. I was really hoping she wouldn't have to do that. I know she's a writer, but I like it better when she writes at home." There was a brief sound of thunder, and Jonathan looked up into the sky. "That's strange. I don't see any clouds."

Candy didn't seem to hear. "And I don't think I like her boss. Mister Finley lectured in our class last week. I think he's kind of a creep, and he didn't seem to know very much."

"Mister Finley…" Jonathan said, shaking his head. "Yeah. Kyle Gorden... he's in my class... said his dad worked for him last year. He said he's really lazy, and a lousy boss."

The sky rumbled again.

"Hey, sounds like rain..." Candy said, looking up at the sky. "I wonder what…?" A bark at that moment interrupted the little girl's wondering as Scruffy appeared out of nowhere. "Hey boy! Came to get us, huh?" she asked, reaching down to pet the little dog. A bark seemed to answer her question. The little girl turned to her brother. "Jonathan?"

"Yeah, Can?"

"I've been thinking about what you said," she started slowly, almost as if the words were being dragged out of her.

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's just that — You were right…"

"What about?"

"About Gull Cottage, and our house."

The spirit ventured closer.

"Our Albatross?" Jonathan made a face. "I read about the Albatross. It's a bad luck bird."

Candy nodded. "Yeah, and the Albatross… the house, I mean. It's just that, well, I don't like it. It feels lonely. Not like Gull Cottage did. And it's not all the repairing and painting and stuff Mom and Martha have been doing, either."

"I told you, Candy," the little boy said smugly. "It's Captain Gregg. He made Gull Cottage not lonely, and there is no ghost where we are living now."

"You think maybe...?" his sister started, then stopped.

"What?"

"You think maybe HE's lonely?" Candy blurted out.

The little boy shook his head. "I think so, but Mom says he's a fig."

Startled, the ghost moved closer still.

"A what?"

"A fig," Jonathan maintained. "Of my imagination. She tells me that, anyway. But I'm not sure she believes what she is saying either. I know I don't."

"Oh… figment," Candy said, not taking the opportunity to tease her brother for his mis-speak. "Mom doesn't think he's real?"

"W-e-l-l…" Jonathan said slowly. "She says so, but I still wonder."

"Jonathan, you said he was real. You still think so, don't you?"

"Yes," the boy nodded his head, definitely. "I do. I know he is."

"Well, I'm beginning to think maybe... no…" Candy paused. "I know I didn't see him, but I think he's real, too. I've been hearing stories about ghosts, and…" She stopped again, and looked up at the sky. "C'mon, Jonathan. We better get going. We can talk a little more when we get home maybe. I have a lot of questions to ask you, and I want to tell you a little about what I have been hearing… about Gull Cottage, and Captain Gregg."

Jonathan's face looked happier. "Sure Candy — we can do that." He nodded. "I'm glad you don't think I am trying to scare you any more."

With a bark from Scruffy, the two children took off, taking the sunshine with them.

After the children had moved on, Daniel continued to watch the road for some time. Because of them, he did not thunder, instead, he paced the widow's walk and fumed.

_Finley! How could she work for such a mongrel? His great-grandfather declared me a suicide on the flimsiest of evidence, and I doubt the later generations have improved any! Besides, I've heard rumors about that whelp. Blast it, if that woman just wasn't so stubborn... and why am I so upset?_

He halted his pacing and vanished from the walk, reappearing in the wheelhouse — grudgingly admitting, if only to himself that not knowing the answers to his own questions was almost as troubling as the notion of Finley coming within ten feet of... of... _the woman he hadn't forgotten. _

**October 14, 1968**

These thoughts were still tumbling around in his brain when, the next day, at approximately the same time as on previous days, Candy and Jonathan came up to the stone gate very deliberately and stopped outside it. They stared at the house for some moments in silence, then finally Candy spoke:

"Jonathan?"

"Huh?"

"I was wondering…" she started, then stopped.

"What?"

"Well, I'm guess I… that is, I believe you, but I STILL don't see how you could see a ghost here if me and Martha couldn't."

Her brother shrugged. "I dunno, Candy. I just could. Really. You said you believed me last night. Besides, I wouldn't lie, not even just to you. Telling you there was a ghost when there wasn't would be a lie, and Mom punishes us when we lie. No dessert for two weeks. I like dessert!"

Candy nodded. "Me, too. Especially Martha's Blueberry Slump."

"I just kinda _found _him," Jonathan continued. "At first he looked cross, and maybe a little surprised that I saw him, but then he told me who he was and I got to talk to him. He seemed nice to me, and…"

The Captain started. _All right. True. I was startled when the lad could see me, and at his lack of cowardice, especially after dealing with Claymore's idiocy for so many years! And I really couldn't bear the thought of scaring a child, but still… ME? Nice? I'm not nice. Or sweet, either._

Candy interrupted again. "Well, if he's so nice, then how come I didn't get to see him?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe because you kept saying there aren't any ghosts. You hurt his feelings."

"Well, I didn't _mean_ to hurt his feelings." Candy's face was turning pink at the thought of hurting her brother's unseen friend. "Besides, that was later, when it was thundering and raining outside. He could have said 'hello' to me earlier. I'm not a sissy. I wouldn't have been scared of him. Besides, I didn't even know ghosts had feelings. Do they?"

"They used to be people," Jonathan said slowly, pondering his sister's question. "And people have feelings. Even Scruffy has feelings. So ghosts can, too… I think."

Candy bit her fingernail, working through this new idea. "So you don't think having feelings goes away when they die?"

"Nah..." Jonathan shook his head. "Captain Gregg was grumpy when I first met him, but I think he was mad at Claymore for renting his house, not mad at us for living in it. He seemed more like… like…"

"Like what?"

"Like he wasn't used to being around people and wasn't sure what to say to me. Maybe that's why he changed his mind and didn't say anything to you or Martha right away."

Candy's face turned thoughtful again. "Well, if he does have feelings, I'm really sorry if I hurt them." Then her face brightened. "You think maybe that's why Mom packed us up and left that night? If Captain Gregg didn't know how to talk to people, maybe Mom didn't know how to talk to a ghost."

"That must be it," Jon said, his face looking sorrowful. "She should have waited until morning. I think she was just kinda scared, what with the thundering, and all."

"And tired," his sister agreed. "Mom always tells me not to make any decisions when I am tired. But she did."

"The Captain even told me he LIKED that his house looked all shipshape again," her brother answered. "I wish she could UN-make a decision."

"Yeah. It was a neat house."

"With a neat ghost."

"Yeah, neat. I wish I could have met him," Candy agreed. "I really don't think I would be scared of him now."

"Guess we'll never know…" Jonathan sighed, but his face perked up at the sight of Scruffy, who came running up the road. "Hi, boy!" But, to the children's surprise, the dog went tearing past them, chasing a fat, bushy-tailed squirrel.

The children watched as the squirrel scampered up to the stone porch of the house, and with Scruffy making a beeline after him, dashed to the side of the house, past a broken trellis, near and then through a slightly open window. With a tremendous effort, the dog made a leap, and jumped through the same window after it, bound and determined to catch the creature.

Uttering an oath, the seaman willed himself inside.

"Scruffy! Come back here!" Candy shouted, and without preamble, made a run for the house, all thought of ghosts, one way or the other, forgotten. Her brother was right behind her. Reaching the window, it took them only moments to open it wider and crawl inside.

The two children didn't hesitate, even for a second, as they barged into the dusty old house, but followed Scruffy to the living room, where they found him by the hearth, barking shrilly at the fireplace.

"Scruffy!" Candy shouted. "Don't hurt the squirrel!"

Her brother snorted. "Don't be silly, Candy, that squirrel is long gone."

"Where?" Candy looked around.

"Up the chimney, probably," Jonathan answered.

"You sure?"

"Where else could he go?"

"Upstairs? Maybe to our room? I mean..." the little girl looked around. "Where our room USED to be." Scruffy stopped barking and let out a small whine, and Candy scooped him up. "Don't be sad, Scruff," she soothed. "Maybe you'll catch him next time."

"Fat chance," Jonathan scoffed. "That squirrel can run lots faster than Scruffy."

Scruffy jumped from Candy's arms at that moment, and started sniffing around the living room, still paying particular attention to the fireplace, but his whining stopped.

Candy looked around the dark room, lit only by the light coming through the windows, and sighed.

"You know, Jonathan, it's too bad. I really loved this house. So did Mom, I could tell."

Jonathan's sigh equaled his sister's. "You know, Candy, I was thinking, Mom must've met Captain Gregg that first night. They must've had a fight about us living here, and maybe that's why we had to leave."

"That makes sense," Candy shrugged. "You're too little, but I remember. Sorta. Mommy and Daddy used to fight a lot. I dunno about what, but maybe she just didn't want to fight any more." She looked up at the portrait over the mantle piece and sighed. "He really is cool looking..." Scruffy whined again and ventured closer to the fireplace.

"Yeah, and he looks even better in person," Jonathan agreed. "He doesn't look anything like the ghosts in the movies — you know, like Casper, or all transparent. He looks like a real person, except he can appear and disappear whenever her wants, and you can't touch him."

"Did you try?" Candy asked, her eyes filled with wonder.

"Yeah," her brother answered. "He let me. It was so cool. I got to touch... I mean, _not_ touch his arm. My hand went right through it."

"I wish I had seen him." Candy mourned. "I'd love to meet a ghost."

A look of relief crossed her brother's face. "Then you really, really believe me, Candy? About meeting Captain Gregg? About seeing a ghost?"

"Yeah, Jonathan. I do," Candy answered, almost reluctantly. "You don't lie. I don't know why I didn't get to see him, but I wish I could've. And, well, I think his portrait is_ magnificent..."_ she added, gazing up at the painting once more. "...Just like Mom said."

"_**Thank you, young lady.**"_

A deep voice came from behind them, and the two children whirled around. Scruffy whined, then sensing his duty as a faithful protector of the two Muirs, started to snarl at the apparition before them.

"Shh! Stop it, Scruffy!" Candy cried, picking up the little dog. The dog quieted, but a low growl still emanated from his throat.

"Hey, Captain!" Jonathan cried, not the slightest bit afraid. "You're here! You're really here!"

Candy, however, was just a bit more awed. "C-C-Captain Gregg?" she whispered. "Is that really you?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Well, of course it is! He looks just like his picture! Can't you tell?"

"No, he doesn't, Jonathan," Candy swallowed, finally finding her voice. "He looks better. _Lots _better!"

"Thank you again, young lady. Now then..." he paused. "...What precisely are you two children doing in my house?"

Scruffy, collecting himself, jumped from Candy's arms and started barking at the spirit, furiously.

"Shush, Scruffy!" Jonathan scolded him. Bending down, he patted the little dog, who then quieted again. "Well you see, Scruffy saw a squirrel, and the squirrel came in the window and then HE came in the window and..."

"...And we came in to get him," Candy interrupted. "And we... uh... we..."

"We... what?" the ghost asked, looking stern.

"And well... we... I guess we wanted to see the house again," Jonathan confessed. "It's such a NEAT house, and..."

"...And?" the spirit said again. "Surely you have more you wish to tell me?"

"...And, well, Jonathan has been telling me there was too a ghost here and..." Candy broke off, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, Captain," Jonathan cut in. "...and you know how girls are! She wanted to see if I was telling the truth."

The apparition before them seemed to grow a tad taller.

"I will never understand why women..." he started, but Candy interrupted him.

"I'm not a woman yet, Captain Gregg, and besides, Jonathan Muir..." she continued, glaring at her brother. "I TOLD you I believed you about the ghost. I just wanted to see him for myself."

"Females then," the Captain waived a hand. "You always expect the worst."

"Is that why Mom packed us up and left in the middle of the night?" Jonathan interrupted again. "Did she suspect the worst about ghosts?"

"Expected, Jonathan," Candy said reprovingly. "Did she, Captain?" she continued, looking up at the spirit.

"Expected… suspected… I have no way of knowing how your mother's mind was working," Daniel Gregg said loftily. "She simply chose not to stay..."

"I _told_ Candy I bet she was worried about living with a ghost," said Jonathan, matter-of-factly.

"Not to mention Martha living with a ghost," Candy added. "I wonder what she'd think?"

"Martha'd want him to help clean!" Jonathan answered. "After all, Gull Cottage was his house first."

"I do NOT do housework," the seaman interrupted, looking grim. "That is for females. When I was alive, I had a housekeeper." There was a roll of thunder.

"Sounds like rain," Candy commented. "Jonathan, I left my books outside, we..."

"Don't be silly, Candy!" her brother laughed. "That was the Captain who did that! I TOLD you he was cool!"

"Really?" The little girl gazed up at the Captain, a look of pure adoration on her face. "What else can you do?"

XXX  
From that day forward, time stopped dragging for Candy and Jonathan. Rather the opposite, it flew. Visiting Gull Cottage on the way home from school became a habit. If anyone had gotten over their fear of him enough talk to the spirit and ask, Daniel would have grimly denied that he was attached to the two children. Yet, as the days elapsed, he found that he 'lived' for the half-hour they spent after school with him each day, and for what time they could make available on weekends.

There was never any set in stone plan for the adventures the children and the seaman's spirit shared. Some days were spent fishing; though their catches had to be released, of course. Daniel's treasure trove expanded somewhat with their finds from beach combing expeditions. Shells became cherished possessions for the first time. Although they had seen the house somewhat in their brief stay there, exploring it with the master of Gull Cottage was altogether different. Captain Gregg even allowed them into his most cherished room, the wheelhouse — the attic to landlubbers. However, the two kids might not be considered 'landlubbers' in the strictest sense. Under the Captain's watchful eye, Jonathan and Candy learned to tie knots, use the telescope properly, and "shoot the sun" with a sextant. Of course, some of this bled over into the mundane aspects of their lives…

"Kids, I was wondering, what would you like for your birthdays?" Carolyn asked one afternoon, hoping it would be something small; not only were the choices rather limited in Schooner Bay, but so was her budget.

"How about a harpoon? Or a telescope?" Jonathan asked.

"A telescope?" Carolyn blinked.

"Yeah, like the one at… I mean, the one that was at Gull Cottage," the little boy elaborated.

"Um — I don't know if I can find a telescope in Schooner Bay," Carolyn said, remembering the ghost's spotless one. "And harpoons are o-u-t, out. So could you give me another idea or two? Maybe a _little_ less elaborate? How about you, Candy?"

"Hmm… some ropes? Or a sewing kit?" the girl suggested thoughtfully.

"I didn't know you wanted to sew!" Carolyn was a bit relieved, but this was puzzling.

"Yeah. I'd like to make a sail," her daughter nodded.

"A sail? Not a pretty outfit?"

"No — that's something that water-rat Penelope Harpoonlicker'd want to do," Candy made a face. "No, I want to do something useful, even if back a hundred years ago only seamen sewed sails. If they could do it, I can!"

"Sails and knots," Carolyn repeated, then clicked onto what else her children had said. "Water-rat? Harpoon — Candace! Jonathan!"

"Well, she is!" Candy replied, shrugging. The girl put aside the book she was looking at and turned to her brother. "Want to go practice knots, Jonathan? I still can't get the clove hitch one right. I tie it, but it won't stay. You know how to do it."

"Can't do a sheepshank, though," Jonathan said, getting up. "I don't know what I am doing wrong."

"We'll get it," his sister replied. "The…" she stopped. "…I heard it's supposed to be easy. Maybe we're trying too hard." She gave Carolyn a kiss. "See you at dinner, Mommy."

Martha, who had come into the room halfway through the conversation, looked after the retreating figures, dazed. "I wonder what's gotten into those two? You realize they haven't been bickering at all for the last few weeks? I tell you, it's unnatural."

Carolyn shook her head. "I'll have to agree with you there, Martha. But I guess I should be grateful for the peace and quiet." She glanced at her watch. "Dinner in an hour? That might give me enough time to finish up the obits Mister Finley wants me to write… then if I hurry, maybe I can get the articles on the city council meeting and the school board done tonight, too… Then I can start on that article about the show Claymore Gregg is putting on next week."

Martha nodded. "He cornered me when I was in town at the hardware store yesterday. Wanted to know if I would be assistant director!" Seeing Carolyn's worried frown, she continued, hurriedly. "I said no."

"Thanks, Martha." Carolyn looked relieved. "I can't tell you what to do with your free time, but…"

"Who has free time?" Martha grinned. "Especially for _that_ show! I was duly warned. Assistant director for Claymore Gregg means everything BUT directing. And all back stage stuff, right up to and including pulling the curtain rope! Fine, fat lot of nerve that man has… assuming I have all the free time in the world with THIS house to take care of!"

"We could MAKE time if you wanted to do it, Martha," Carolyn said, looking guilty. "You do so much here. Much more than you signed on for."

"All part of the package," Martha smiled, and gave Carolyn a pat on the shoulder. "These house repairs can't go on forever…" she paused. "Speaking of which…"

Carolyn's lower lip trembled. "NOW what?"

"I think you are going to need to get the roof looked at."

"No…" Carolyn buried her head in her hands. "I just can't afford it this month!"

"Well, maybe we can get up there in the next few weeks," Martha sighed. "It might just be the gutters, but something is funny up there, and there's an area in the laundry porch that was leaking when it started raining yesterday. And the gutters are sagging. Why this house hasn't fallen down around our ears, I don't know. It certainly enjoys living up to its name. I don't relish climbing up there to look, but maybe you and I together can work something out in the next couple of weeks or so."

"I'll see what I can do, Martha," Carolyn sighed again. I finally did get another real writing assignment… its due in a couple of weeks. Maybe then I can afford to get Mister Peavey out here again."

"I could try bribing him with a pie," Martha chuckled. "Millie — you know her, she's the telephone operator here, told me he's partial to cherry pies. It might be a good source of cheap labor if I can get him to try one of mine."

"Well, we won't get anywhere if I don't get started," Carolyn said. "Could you do me a favor and put on another pot of coffee? These articles are going to keep me busy… I might as well just forget dinner and get moving."

"Now don't you do that," Martha scolded. "I'll bring you something in your room on a tray."

"About the only way I can eat in there," Carolyn scowled. "Blasted room is so cramped!"

"Blasted?" Martha blinked.

"Did I say that?" Carolyn shrugged. "Good old-fashioned word. The kids have been using it — along with a few other colorful phrases. Guess I picked it up. Sorry!"

"Don't be," Martha grinned, heading for the kitchen. "Good word. Blasted roof, blasted rain, blasted gutters, and blast Claymore Gregg for owning this albatross of a house!"

"And blast ME for getting Martha and the children… and myself into this fix to begin with!" Carolyn muttered, a single, solitary tear sliding down her cheek. And from the other room, through paper-thin walls, Candy and Jonathan listened.

XXX

As the days progressed, Candy, Jonathan, and their new friend continued to discover different things about each other, the past, the present, and life in general. With the Captain, mundane schoolwork became interesting. Whereas once Daniel had tolerated this century, never enjoying it, now, seeing it through their young eyes, he discovered it had much to offer. His own era stopped being simply a time he missed, but a fascinating period of time to share and see in a new light. Without realizing it, the trio formed a bond with each other, the children acquiring a substitute father-figure and the Captain getting a taste of having children of his own.

Even Halloween, once a time for the ghost to either wander the beach alone and unseen, or create a thunderstorm to chase away the inevitable pranksters that would make their way to Gull Cottage on a dare, was different that year for Daniel Gregg. The children, all too keenly aware of the financial troubles Carolyn was facing, insisted that they could create a costume without resorting to buying a ready-made one at Ollie Wilkins' general store. Both costumes had a nautical theme, of course. Armed with their meager savings, money given to them by Ralph and Marjorie, their father's parents, before they left Philadelphia, they hit the local thrift store after school, two days before Halloween. With the Captain's invisible help, Jonathan found a pair of white bell-bottomed pants and striped shirt, red kerchief and sailor's cap and was transformed into a very satisfactory "Seaman," he explained later to his mother. "Sailor is a landlubber's word."

Carolyn had sighed at that point, remembering a certain ghost making the same comment, what already seemed like ages before. _Amazing what things they pick up at school, _she thought.

Candy, not to be outdone, and despite the Captain's objections that such things were not really at all in keeping with all things female, found a white peasant blouse, a red skirt, slit to the waist, and black shorts. That, along with a black eye patch and her boots made her a pirate, she insisted, and no amount of invisible cajoling would persuade her into anything different.

Much to the ghost's delight, and surprise, his favorite seaman and pirate stopped on the way home after the Halloween parade at school, announcing that they had both won a prize for best original homemade costume for their classes, beating out their respective nemeses — Danny Shoemaker and Penelope Hassenhammer. That night, Martha, breaking loose for an hour, took them trick-or-treating in town.

XXX

"Your birthday is Monday, Jonathan," the ghost remarked the next day when the children met him, as usual, after school. "Have you thought about anything you would like? Not that I can promise anything, but any clues at all would be appreciated. Candy…" He turned to the little girl, who was examining, for perhaps the fiftieth time, the statue at the bottom of the staircase. For some reason, it fascinated the girl. "…Candy, yours is coming up, too, on the ninth. I was thinking maybe there was something in the wheelhouse that might appeal. An ivory fan? Maybe I can find you that…"

"Don't worry about it, Captain," Candy answered, biting a fingernail.

"Don't bite your nails, Candy," the spirit reprimanded gently. At her reproachful look he added, "You did tell me you were trying to stop. And you have, mostly. Tell me…" He paused, watching the two children steal glances at each other. "What's the problem?"

"Nothing, Captain," Candy sighed, and flounced over to the bay window, sitting on the window seat and curling into a ball, her chin tucked between bent knees.

"Nothing, Captain," Jonathan echoed before the seaman could ask him the same question.

"Now, don't give me that," Daniel frowned. "If there is one thing I have learned, is when you two say "Nothing, Captain," in that tone of voice, it's not nothing, it's something. Now what is it?"

The only answer he received was a shrug. Knowing better than to push, he decided to try a different tack.

"So… how has your mother been lately? Are you all settling into your new house well?"

The children let out a collective sigh. "Okay," said Candy, her voice flat.

The seaman raised an eyebrow. "That "okay" didn't sound very okay. What's wrong? What has you so blue this afternoon?"

"Nothing," Candy blew out another breath and looked up at the ceiling.

_Children…_ Daniel sighed to himself, and tried yet another angle. "Well, how are you doing then? Everything is all organized there, isn't it?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Not really. Nothing works right. Martha's always fixing something. Mom, too. Gull Cottage is a much better house than the Albatross is."

"Besides, we miss Mom," Candy added.

"Miss her?" The ghost looked puzzled. "Where did she go? Is she on a trip? I'm sure she will be back soon."

"Mom didn't go anywhere, Captain," Jonathan cut in. "She's just always busy, working."

"And she hates working for Mister Finley," said Candy.

"I would have thought that she would like writing for the paper. She is a writer, after all." The spirit asked, tugging an earlobe. "Isn't that her job?"

"Yeah, Captain, but she does EVERYTHING," Jonathan said patiently.

"But why is she so busy?" the seaman prodded. "How much time does it take to write? I rather got the impression, what little time I did see her here, that she was a writer partly because it DID mean she had more time to spend with you."

"Supposed to be, but it hasn't worked that way," Jonathan grumbled. "She leaves early in the morning, when we are just getting up, not even dressed, and then she gets home about the time we are ready to take our baths and go to bed."

"Yeah, sometimes she's even later, and on the weekends she's still trying to write her own articles, so we don't see her too much then," Candy added. "She's been getting outside assignments, but not enough."

"She could get enough if she didn't work for Mister Finley twelve hours a day," Jonathan argued. "He makes her do everything. I heard her talking to Martha about it."

"I have, too, Captain," Candy said sadly. "She has to do all the writing, and goes all over town for interviews and getting information, like at the library, you know? Besides, Mister Finley makes her sell advertising, and write them, and do the layout and the proofreading, and answer the phone whenever she IS in the office, and get him coffee when he wants it, and water his plants and sweep the floor every two days!"

"Yeah, and when she isn't working, she's too tired to go anywhere, or do anything fun," Candy elaborated.

"It's almost like she WAS gone. Either that, or she is writing her own stories. She has gotten a couple of other things to write, but she never has enough time anymore. And if she DOES stop working, it seems like there is always something at the Albatross that needs fixing, Captain," Jonathan continued.

"Yeah," Candy agreed. "Martha says the roof is going to go next, or part of it anyway. And yesterday she and Martha were trying to decide if it would be easier for her to be on the roof to patch and hammer, and Martha, go up and down to hand her stuff, or the other way around."

"I don't think she should be up there, Captain," Jonathan spoke up again. "Candy and I said we would help, but Mom said we're too young to be crawling around on roofs."

"I agree with your mother there," the ghost said firmly. "You are."

"The laundry porch where the roof is leaking is only a little bit taller than the jungle gym at school…" Jonathan protested.

"Or the top of the rings," Candy added. "You know, up at the very top where the chains are hung? I go up there all the time with Quentin Coopersmith and untangle them when the big kids fling them up in the spokes."

"I don't think your mother would approve of that, Candy," the seaman said, trying to look stern.

"It's not nearly as high up as the crow's nest, Captain, and you said the cabin boys on your ship learned how to climb the ratlines AND go in the crow's nest when they were younger than me..."

"Younger than I, and I still wish you would be careful," the Captain sighed. "In my day…"

"In your day girls had to wear dresses all the time and didn't get to do anything fun," Candy grinned. "I promise I'll be careful, Captain Gregg."

"Hey! I know what!" Jonathan interrupted. "Captain, could you fix the roof? You know how. I bet you had to fix the roof at Gull Cottage when you were alive! We could help you… you know, hand you stuff…"

"I think not, Jonathan," the seaman smiled. "I can't get any supplies without stealing. I have no money. And besides, how would you explain the roof fixing itself?"

"You could show US how to fix it," Candy interjected. "You know, watch, and tell us what to do."

Captain Gregg shook his head again. "My dear child…" he said, as gently as he could. "Aside from MY feelings, as I said, I don't think your mother would approve of you climbing around on an outside ladder. I'm afraid my answer has to be no."

"Gotta be something to do," Jonathan muttered. "I'm tired of Mom working all the time. We never get to play or go for walks or anything. It's going to be too cold and too rainy to have any fun at the beach soon."

"You know what would be best, Captain?" Candy asked, turning her face to the seaman once more.

"What, my dear?"

"If we could all move back into Gull Cottage and Albatross Manor fell to the ground one night, that's what!"

The Captain grinned in spite of himself. "I agree with you wholeheartedly about the second part, Candy, providing none of you were inside when it happened." He sighed. "But I am afraid the first part of your statement is highly unlikely."

"Why?" Jonathan queried, curious.

"I just… don't," the seaman said, suddenly feigning acute interest in a half-done ship model Jonathan had left on a low table. "Your mother and I were… too different. We just didn't… get along."

"Sure it would've," Candy wheedled. "You guys just didn't talk it out enough. That's what Mom makes Jonathan and me do when we fight. I bet if you had talked more, Mom wouldn't have left."

"And we love this house… and you," they said together.

"Maybe," the spirit said, conceding just a bit. "But I did not force your mother to leave. It really has to be HER choice to come back." Inwardly, he sighed, irritated with himself, wondering if he had willed the woman's car back that first night, perhaps they could have worked out an equitable arrangement after all. He looked around the room that seemed to brighten every time the children set foot inside it. _Maybe it would be better for my ship if she lived here..._

"So maybe we can ask her about it?" Candy's face brightened. "That would be…"

Daniel cut her off. "You will ask her nothing. If your mother wants to see me… that is, come back, she needs to decide it without any coaxing from you two."

"But…" brother and sister said together, but Daniel stopped them.

"That's enough of this talk for now. Let me think about this. Maybe there is some way I can help with the roof, at least. In the meantime, Jonathan, I left my sextant and handheld telescope in the wheelhouse. And I think you left some homework, or papers of some kind up there. I didn't want to disturb your things. Why don't you go sort them and come back here? You do that and we might have enough time for a quick lesson in shooting the sun before you two go home, all right?"

Nodding, the boy headed for the stairs.

"We could work the other stuff out if she didn't spend so much time at the Beacon," Candy said, almost to herself. "Mom told Martha she has lots of articles and stories planned in her head, she is just too tired to write them. She was even talking about writing a story that takes place on board a ship. And she says Mister Finley spends all his time in his office napping, saying he's thinking. Captain, if you are a boss, can somebody report you for not being a good boss?"

"No, child," the seaman smiled. "The only thing that can happen is after a while, no one wants to work for you any more. I saw a few bad captains sink like that."

"Wish that would happen to Mister Finley then," Candy sighed.

"Some things never change," Daniel commented almost to himself. "If that whelp is anything like his great-grandfather"

"What, Captain?" Candy asked, looking to at him, interested. "Is what, Captain? Please tell me."

"I'll tell you… sometime."

"Tell me now."

"Jonathan will be back soon."

"You can talk fast and I can listen fast. Betcha you were thinking about Mister Finley because of what I heard about you when we first moved here…"

There was thunder in the distance, and Candy looked alarmed. "That was you, wasn't it?" She cocked her head and listened. "Yeah, it was. Captain, I have been meaning to ask you about that. I mean, about how you died. I heard in school that well, I know you know what I heard… Captain, it's not true, is it? I won't tell Jonathan if it is. He doesn't even remember Dad dying. I do kinda. But is it right? What I heard? Is that why you are still here at Gull Cottage?" She blushed. "Jonathan will be back in a few minutes, but we have time. I'm old enough to know. What's the real story?"

Quickly, the spirit told the girl the truth, and after both children had left for the afternoon, he paced the rooms of his 'ship,' resolving to do something about the sad state of affairs at Albatross Manor.

XXX

Candy and Jonathan's birthdays came and went. Carolyn was able to find the gifts they had requested. Jonathan did receive an inexpensive telescope, and while it was nothing as elaborate as the one she remembered in the master cabin of Gull Cottage, the boy seemed happy with it. Five days later, on Saturday, Candy was equally pleased with the super-deluxe sewing kit Carolyn had finally located at a small shop, during one of her interviews in Keystone. The repairs at The Albatross, and her job at the Beacon, however, went on.

END PART TWO


	3. Chapter 3

**November 13, 1968**

Carolyn sighed, blowing a stray hair out of her eyes. Here, alone at the Beacon, she could admit to herself how tired she was. The Albatross by itself would make her feel that way, so would being the head writer, janitor, secretary, and everything but boss at the SBB. Together, it was almost too much, but she could not let the children or Martha know how it was getting to her. A weak part of her wished for a strong man to lean on, just a little bit, and unbidden, the portrait at Gull Cottage flashed into her mind. For a second or two, his eyes had seemed so... kind. Grimly, she pushed the thought from her mind, and returned to organizing Mark's latest 'brilliant' idea, a _'This Week In History' _feature. If it hadn't been ONE more thing for her to do, but no more pay for the one more thing, she might have found it interesting. Might as well get to it. She began sorting through the books and clippings on her desk.

_Let's see, _she thought to herself_, Week of November 11-17. BBC begins broadcasting. St. Augustine is born. Lincoln elected. November 13, Captain Daniel Gregg commits suicide..._

Carolyn stopped what she was doing, staring at the old paper. She had just told herself not to think about HIM any more. Suicide... no. That's not how he died. Very clearly, she could hear him telling her about his blasted foot and the blasted gas heater. As she read about his closed window and the gas, she recalled waking up cold that first day at Gull Cottage because of the open window. _Had he opened the window, not to annoy her, but to keep her and the children from suffering a like-fate? _

_Did he care? _

For the rest of the day, her mind kept flicking back to the article, to the man it was about. If she were honest with herself, Carolyn would admit that today was not the first time she'd caught herself thinking about Daniel Gregg.

Sometimes writing helped these moods... Maybe she could write about him and get the irritating, arrogant, handsome spirit off her mind…

XXX

On November eighteenth, at nine in the morning, two hours after Carolyn left for her job at the SBB, a knock came at the door of Albatross Manor, followed by the ringing of the doorbell.

"Hold on. I'm coming!" Martha shouted. "Keep your shirt on!" Reaching the door, she opened it to find Ed Peavey, painter and general handyman, on the other side. She looked at him with some surprise.

"Why, Mister Peavey! What on earth are you doing here? I thought I had seen the last of you when you ran out of Gull Cottage!" She smiled. "Now if I knew you were coming, I'd have baked a pie."

"Well, Miz Grant, I'm here to work, but I'd welcome one when I'm done. And please, just call me Ed, everyone does. I wish you would bake a pie — especially since you mentioned it first. Everyone says you are the best cook in Schooner Bay."

"Well, thank you... Ed," Martha said, blushing. "But I still don't understand. You are here to work? Doing what? Not that there isn't at least ten things I can think of that this place needs, but…"

"Claymore Gregg sent me out here to fix the roof," Ed explained. "Understand you have been havin' a few problems with it?"

"Mister Peavey…" Martha began reluctantly. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that! I know Claymore Gregg owns this place, such as it is, but I just know there's been some kind of mistake here. Mrs. Muir can't possibly afford to pay you to fix the roof this month. It's just not in the budget. We're keeping our fingers crossed for no snow or rain until next month, then maybe…"

"Now, don't you worry none about that, Martha," Ed interrupted. "There's no charge…"

Martha stared at the handyman in shock. "I knew my pie was good, but _that_ good?"

The handyman shook his head. "No, ma'am. Not you. I'm gettin' paid! But Claymore Gregg has promised to take care of my bill." He gave her a sly wink. "But your pie might _just_ be that good!"

"We'll remember that for the next emergency," Martha joked, sensing a new fan.

"Then again, might not!" the painter added as an afterthought. "Have to taste it first."

"Mister Peavey, YOU are in for a treat."

XXX

When the children came home that day after stopping to see the Captain, Ed was still there. He had left for the day by the time Carolyn arrived home at eight-thirty that evening and arrived after she had departed for work the next morning, but in three days, the roof was finally repaired, much to everyone's relief. And just in time, for the day after the painter had made his farewells, taking one of Martha's meringues home with him, the annual rainy season started. And stayed. And stayed.

XXX

Daniel Gregg stood on his 'bridge' Thanksgiving Day and scowled.

_Blast this weather! _He fumed to himself_. Will it never stop? If I can make a thunderstorm, why can't I stop one?_

The children hadn't been by since Friday, the twenty-second. Riding bicycles to school was all very fine when the weather was fair, but the roads had turned to mud with the rains, and that had only taken one day. After the rain was well underway, he had observed the Muir family's station wagon make the daily trip into town carrying the children and their mother each morning. He saw it return to the Albatross with only Martha, then, in the afternoon, the trip was repeated to pick them up, and then repeated again, much later in the evening to pick up Carolyn Muir.

The week had been interminably long.

_Nothing is right around here anymore, _he sighed to himself, transporting to his wheelhouse. _Daniel, you need to stop this mooning. Stay busy, that's the ticket. You managed perfectly well, by yourself, for more than a hundred years with almost no company at all, save a fellow specter's visit once in a while, and here you are, sulking… _

Arriving in the attic, he started searching around in every nook and cranny. He still had not found just the right thing to give Candy and Jonathan for their birthdays, and although they had insisted that they didn't need anything, and understood, after all he was a ghost, and that they would have to explain where the gifts had come from, he still wanted to do something for them, even if it was belated. Convincing that miserly squid to fix the roof wasn't really as much for the children as it was for… _the family. _The WHOLE family.

Jonathan would like any sort of nautical tool or some such. _Where was that compass?_ And he wanted Candy to have something pretty, despite her tomboyish inclinations. He certainly picked up enough of that sort of flotsam for Vanessa. He began looking through a large 'hope chest.' _What was that?_ He pulled out the shawl. _How lovely it still is after so much time, _he thought _I remember how beautiful I thought it would look on Vanessa… _

But when Daniel Gregg focused on the memory, all he could see was a young blonde widow wearing it.

XXX

Jonathan stared out the window at the drizzle Friday afternoon, the day after Thanksgiving.

"Blast…" he sighed. "Candy, it's NEVER going to stop!"

"The weatherman said it's supposed to be clear tomorrow," Candy answered, coming up behind him at the window. "Mom said that was the best birthday present she could have, other than ours, of course. But she says that every year. That our presents are the best, I mean. I think she liked your painted rock paperweight."

"She liked the God's eye you made for her, too," said Jonathan. "But "I can't believe that Mister Finley made her work today," Jonathan continued. "I kinda thought she would get Friday off, like us."

"Grownups don't get the same holidays as kids do," Candy answered knowingly.

"And Mister Finley doesn't give any," Jonathan agreed, nodding his head. "I think he's a worse boss than Claymore would be."

"Well, at least Mister Gregg got Mister Peavey to repair the roof." Candy sighed and breathed on the window, creating fog on the glass pane and started to draw a horse's head. "Besides, busy is busy. Tomorrow Mom's working on her own story here while Martha goes to that cooking fair in Keystone with Millie Applegate. But she'll be home."

"But still working," Jonathan sighed.

"Yeah, but if we get our chores done early, maybe she'll let us play in the afternoon, and if the weather is nice, we can go see Captain Gregg!"

"That'd be great!" The little boy's face looked more cheerful. "I'm worried about him."

"What can happen to a ghost?" Candy asked, puzzled.

"Nothing can HAPPEN to him, I don't think, but I'm worried about him," Jonathan explained. "We haven't seen him for a week, and he's gotta be wondering what happened to us. We never got a chance to tell him why we couldn't come over after school and play with him."

"I thought about that, too, but I decided he's figured it out, Jonathan." Candy smiled. "For one thing, he knows we can't go outside as much or ride our bikes in the rain, and besides, he's probably seen us drive past Gull Cottage. He knows we're okay."

"Still rather be at Gull Cottage than stuck here," Jonathan said, staring out the window again.

"It's better now that the roof doesn't leak, though," his sister answered, looking more cheerful. "And Mom and Martha are happy, too. I can tell."

"Uh huh," Jonathan answered. "But I still wish I could have helped Mister Peavey with the roof, though. Climbing around up there would've been fun."

"You're still too little," Candy answered, in her best big sister tone. "You're only just six. That's too young to be climbing around on ladders and roofs."

"Mister Peavey didn't let you climb up on the ladder, either," Jonathan pointed out swiftly. "And you're eight, now."

"I got to get up on the step-stool and hand him things, though," Candy said, defensively. "But you know what, Jonathan?"

"What?"

"Well, Mister Peavey said Claymore paid him to fix the roof, and when he told Mom, he seemed real surprised that Claymore had done that. So you know what I think? I think Captain Gregg somehow made Claymore pay for the roof, instead of making Mom pay."

Jonathan nodded. "That makes sense."

"So, you know what else I was thinking?" Candy continued, in a serious tone.

"What?"

"Well, you know that first day when we moved into Gull Cottage? We did a lot of cleaning. And it was getting so shipshape when Mom packed us up and we left, but it never got finished. Martha says, half-done looks worse than not done at all."

"I've heard her say that a lot," Jonathan agreed, turning away from the window and sitting on the edge of his bed. "So what were you thinking?"

"Well, it's just that Captain Gregg is so nice…" Candy followed her brother to the beds and sat on her own. "Maybe we could help him get the rest of Gull Cottage all shipshape and Bristol fashion? I think we ought to. He's been trying to keep Gull Cottage more orderly, I can tell, but maybe we could finish the painting Mister Peavey started that first day?"

"Why?" her brother asked, surprise clear on his face. "Gull Cottage isn't our house. It's Claymore's. I mean, he owns it, even if Captain Gregg says Gull Cottage really belongs to him. Besides, Mom has been spending all her money fixing up the Albatross, and he hasn't even given her back all the money she has spent on _that_ yet."

"But wouldn't it be nice if Gull Cottage WAS our house?" Candy argued. "Besides, if we could help the Captain finish tidying his place up, it would kinda be a thank-you for him doing so much for us, like with school, and for helping us with our costumes, and all the other neat stuff he's taught us."

Jonathan looked excited. "Say! That is a cool idea! Mister Peavey never did go back and get his paint or ladder from that day he was there. The ladder he had when he was fixing the roof was brand new. I saw his old stuff at Gull Cottage just last week. And I've watched him, Candy. The Captain, I mean. I've seen him glare at the wall in the living room that Mister Peavey didn't finish. It bothers him, I can tell. I think he would be happy to see it all painted. I wish Mom and Martha could help, though. They're getting really good at painting."

"Mom doesn't have time," Candy answered, shaking her head. "She says Mister Finley keeps her super busy…"

"And she's writing that story now for that magazine in Boston, too…" Jonathan agreed. "What's the name of it?"

"_Feminine View,"_ Candy answered. "Mommy says her story is about a sea captain and a girl stowaway."

"Did she name the sea captain Daniel Gregg?" Jonathan asked. "That would be neat."

"Nope — Joshua Webster," Candy answered. "But she is going to be busy tomorrow trying to get it finished, even if her deadline is Tuesday, because she has to be back at work for the SBB on Monday."

"Well, at least she gets to rest on Sunday," the boy sighed.

"Yeah, in the afternoon, after church, if she gets done with her story on Saturday, and if she decides not to start writing anything else," Candy sighed. "But anyway, maybe we can help Captain Gregg this weekend. I bet we COULD paint that wall as good as Mister Peavey can."

"Betcha we could," Jonathan gave a definite nod. "Okay. When the Captain asks us what we want to do this weekend, we can tell him we want to help HIM for a change. Then we can paint." He sighed. "I sure have missed him this week!"

"Me, too. And I haven't even got to show him that ship I drew," Candy added. "You know. The one I got an 'A' on. I was thinking I might let him have it."

"That's nice. Why?"

"Just because. Besides, Captain Gregg has extra picture frames. He can get it all framed and hung up faster than Mom can. Besides, there's no good place for it here. There would be at Gull Cottage."

"Mom would make room," Jonathan argued.

"I know, but I still think I might give it to Captain Gregg," Candy said in a definite tone of voice.

"You know, I think I'll give him my clay model of his monkey-puzzle tree," her brother said thoughtfully. "He'll like it, even if my teacher DIDN'T know what it was!"

Together, the children continued to plan.

XXX

Candy and Jonathan had never been so happy to see the sun as they were Saturday, November thirtieth. The weatherman, for a change, was true to his word, and they woke up to the first bright, clear day in what seemed like forever. Martha had already left for Keystone with Millie Applegate by the time they awoke, and nobody could have been more surprised than Carolyn Muir when the two fixed breakfast by themselves (cold cereal) and started their weekend chores without being pulled away from Saturday morning cartoons.

By noon, they had finished all that was assigned to them and then some. Then, after eating two hastily prepared peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking a glass of milk, they fixed two more for Carolyn, poured her a glass of milk also, put the lunch on a tray and tapped on the door of her bedroom. At her "come in," they entered, and watched for a moment as she pounded away on her old Royal typewriter.

"Oh! Kids!" Carolyn looked startled. "What are you doing up here? I thought you were doing your chores." Candy started to say something, but her mother stopped her. "Never mind, you need a break… listen to this…"

Inwardly rolling his eyes, Jonathan put the tray of food he was carrying on a side table, and both gave Carolyn their undivided attention as she began to read. When she finished the page, she continued speaking. "Well? "What do you think?"

Candy and Jonathan looked at each other, doubtfully.

"I think you need to eat some lunch, Mom," Jonathan began.

"Well, come on! It can't be THAT bad!" Carolyn exclaimed. "Really, how do you like it?"

"Well, it sounds like it could be exciting…" Candy began. "I like the heroine's name, _Caroline_, but…"

"And I like the name of the ship," Jonathan cut in, sensing a rescue was needed. "The _Falcon_ is a cool name, but…" The boy stopped, realizing there was no way he could explain that the name of Daniel Gregg's schooner was the _Mary Anne._

"But what?" Carolyn burst out, frustrated. "I've been working…" She suddenly eyed the lunch the children had brought in. "…All morning on this story."

"Well, it IS exciting, but you have a few things wrong." Jonathan said reluctantly.

"Yeah," Candy affirmed. "It's not sheets, it's sails."

"And it's seamen, not sailors," Jonathan added. "And Cap… that is, nobody would be up in the crow's nest during a storm,"

"And it's lines, not ropes," Candy added.

"It's decks, and portholes, not floors and windows," said Jonathan.

"And if his crew is all locked up in the brig, and Joshua Webster WAS up in the crow's nest who's at the wheel?" Candy asked.

"You're sure?" Carolyn asked doubtfully.

They nodded, vigorously. "I think you can fix it though," Jonathan added. "Other than that, it's real good."

Carolyn sighed. "Okay. I will take your comments under advisement. I guess I better do a little more research…" She pulled a book from a stack she had at the side of her small desk, wishing she had just a little more table space. "What are you guys doing up here, anyway?"

"We brought you some lunch, Mom, and we finished our chores." Jonathan said, gesturing to the tray.

"Yeah, and the roads have dried up, kinda, and we were wondering…" Candy went on.

"…Can we go ride our bikes?" Jonathan interrupted.

"I didn't realize it was so late already," Carolyn sighed. "And that's MAY…" she added, looking tired.

"MAY we go ride our bikes?"

Their mother smiled. "I don't see why not. Are you sure you have done everything on your list? I can't stop to check it all right now."

They both nodded again.

"Yes, and we washed the car, and Scruffy, too," Candy added.

"That was sort of an accident," Jonathan admitted. "He got in the way of the hose, so we decided we better give him a bath, so he didn't get wet for nothing."

"Very well," Carolyn nodded, and started reading the typewritten sheet she was holding in her hand. "Be back by four-thirty. Martha won't be back until late, and I might need some help with supper. Understand?"

Both children nodded once more, and a few minutes later, they were on their bikes and headed down the road, Scruffy barking at their heels.

XXX

Daniel Gregg sensed the children coming from three blocks away and met them at the door. From the looks on their faces, he knew they were as glad to be there as he was to see them.

"Good afternoon, children, and a happy, albeit, belated Thanksgiving," Daniel beamed.

"Happy Thanksgiving, be it belated!" they chorused in return.

"We sure missed you!" Jonathan said.

"Yeah. If I could hug you, I would," Candy said. "I hope you weren't worried, or too lonesome?"

Daniel smiled. "Given the weather, I preferred that you were unable to visit. I'd have hated to think of you walking or riding your bikes in that deluge. But, I did miss you…" he confessed, tugging his earlobe. Glancing at the dog, who was looking up at him with a happy expression, the ghost added, "…all of you. Now, what have you two been up to?"

Exchanging pleased looks, Candy and Jonathan pulled out the objects they'd been half-hiding. "We made these for you," Candy explained, extending the picture as Jonathan held out the sculpture.

Daniel blinked. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. Carefully, he took the sheet of paper. "This is a ship. It looks like my ship."

Flushed with pride and excitement, Candy nodded. "It's not exactly like it, but..."

"It is quite accurate, and I know just the place for it," Daniel assured her. "It will need a frame, but there should be one around here, somewhere." Then, his attention turned to the statue. It looked remotely familiar, but for the life of him, Daniel was not too sure what it was supposed to be. "Now... this is remarkable!" he exclaimed.

"My teacher couldn't guess what it was, but I told her about how it was called a monkey-puzzle tree because of how monkeys can't climb 'em," Jonathan blurted out.

Relieved, Daniel nodded. "Indeed they can't. This will look perfect on the mantle." His smile was genuine when he looked down at them. "Thank you, children. These are the best gifts I've had in... ages. Now, are you in the mood for some fishing?" The two shook their heads, and the seaman stared at them in surprise. "No fishing? What about beach-combing, then? It has warmed up quite a bit since even yesterday."

"Nope!" the little boy said, but his eyes were twinkling.

"Candy?" The Captain turned to her. "What is it? What WOULD you two like to do today?"

"PAINT!" they answered together.

"You mean paint a picture?" he asked, looking puzzled. "I don't think I have any materials here for that — unless you brought some with you."

"No, Captain," Candy shook her head. "Not like art! Jonathan and I have been thinking… we know you chased Mister Peavey away from your house that first day we were here because he called you a sea dog and said you didn't scare him, and…"

"…And you had to prove you could too scare him," Jonathan continued. "But Captain, you goofed. You shouldn't have chased him away until he finished the painting."

"You might have a point." The Captain grinned, in spite of himself. "So?"

"So we want to finish painting the wall he didn't finish, Captain!" Candy said triumphantly. "We've been watching Mom and Martha. It isn't that hard, and you only have the one wall and a bit of another one…"

"Yeah, the rest of the area over the right of the mantle where your picture is, and the wall on the other side," Jonathan added. "We want to do it for you."

"Mister Peavey left all his equipment here," Candy interjected, gesturing to a far corner. "The paint should still be sort of mixed, but we can stir it up really good, and I bet we could finish the walls this afternoon!"

"But children, this is work!" the spirit protested. "Wouldn't you rather play? Relax? Haven't you been doing chores this morning? I wouldn't want you to…"

"Aww, Captain," Jonathan interrupted. "It would be fun! Mom and Martha have been doing all the painting and stuff at the Albatross, and we haven't got to do any of it."

"She may have had a good reason for that, Jonathan. You are too young to be climbing around on ladders."

"But boys on your ship got to!"

"That was the only way to get around, and they only climbed around on the ratlines. But they were not allowed any part in the tarring down — weatherproofing the sails." His face darkened. "I saw a few men die that way… falling from a mast."

"We don't have to do the high part of the ceiling…" Candy coaxed.

"But I wanted…" Jonathan started, but Candy kicked his ankle, silencing her brother, and continued.

"You can do the top parts, Captain. It'll be easier for you anyway. Jonathan and I can do the low parts."

"We REALLY want to do this for you," Jonathan said, turning his soulful blue eyes to the spirit. "Please?"

"Pl-e-e-a-a-s-e?" Candy added. "Really! It'll be fun, and it won't take too long, and I bet we'll even have time for a walk on the beach before we have to go home."

"You're sure that you really want to spend this afternoon painting?"

The children nodded their heads again.

"Very well," the ghost said, shaking his head at the contrariness of children. _Just when you thought you had them worked out… _"But once we start, we can't stop. You can't get bored halfway through and quit."

"We won't!" they chorused.

"And I'll do that area over the fireplace that isn't finished yet," he said firmly. "Number one, it's too high, number two, I rehung my portrait after the oaf left that day, and I don't want any paint spatters on it. Understood?"

"Aye-aye, sir!"

XXX

In ten minutes, the ladder had been set up, a drop cloth placed around the area and the paint opened and stirred.

"Wait a moment, children…" Captain Gregg stopped Candy just as she was putting the brush in the can. Sighing, the girl put it down again.

"What is it, Captain?"

"I just realized something. You can't paint in those clothes."

"Why not?" Jonathan asked. "They're old."

"Yeah, that's why we wore them while we were doing chores, Captain," Candy tried to explain. "It won't matter if they get dirty or sweaty."

"But it WILL matter if you get paint on them, my dears," the seaman smiled. "I don't think your mother, or that housekeeper of yours would appreciate it — or understand where the paint CAME from."

"We'll be extra careful…" Jonathan started.

"I can't count on that one-hundred percent, lad," he smiled again. "Also remember. Claymore turned off the water. You have no way of washing the paint off your hands, let alone your clothes."

"I found some gloves, Captain," said Candy. "Rubber gloves. They stretch. We can wear them and keep the paint off and if we do get a little on, we can go down and wash off in the ocean before we go home."

Daniel Gregg nodded. "Excellent thought, but your clothes…" he broke off again, but then an idea struck him. "Wait a minute… I think I might have some things of mine packed away upstairs. Old-fashioned shirts and whatnot. I wonder… maybe if I could find them, and we could put one over each of you... that just might work!" He looked at their delighted faces. "You two stay here. I'll just pop up in the wheelhouse and look!"

The moment the seaman was gone, Jonathan turned to his sister. "I want to get on the ladder first," he demanded, not asked.

"Uhh-uh," Candy answered. "No, Jonathan. You're too little. You get to do the parts near the ground. You heard the Captain. He doesn't want you climbing on ladders. He and I will handle those parts."

"He didn't say you could get on the ladder either!" Jonathan protested. "That's not fair!"

"I don't mean w-a-a-a-a-y up on the ladder, Jonathan. Just a couple of steps, maybe three or four to reach the middle part of the wall. Captain Gregg gets to do up by the ceiling."

"I still don't think it's fair," the little boy grumbled. "Just because you're older…"

"It's not just that, Jonathan…" she started, then stopped, refraining from saying that her younger brother could be a true klutz at times. "…It's just that… well, you just can't. Or me either."

"I think you're just being bossy."

"Am not!"

"Are, too!"

"Am not, and if you don't stop, I'm going to tell the Captain, that you're fussing and he won't let you paint at all!"

"Yes he will, and you're not the boss of me! Captain Gregg is!"

"Well, HE said you couldn't climb on the ladder, either!"

"No, he…" the boy paused. "Well, maybe he did, but I think he forgot I just had a birthday, so I am older now…"

"Not old enough. Now knock it off."

"Okay, Candy," the boy grumbled, going over to stir the paint once more. "I still think I could do it though. Just a little." He paused and stirred the paint again. "Sea green IS a neat color. I can't wait to see what the rest of the room will look like when it's all done."

"Yeah then maybe the Captain will stop glaring at the wall when he thinks we're not looking," his sister answered. She went to the window and opened it. "It will keep the smell down," she explained, seeing Jonathan's questioning look. Candy paced back and fourth and looked up at the ceiling, almost as if she thought she could see through it. "I wonder what's keeping him? I think I know where those old clothes are… he'll be up there all day." She looked at her brother. "I'll go help him look, Jonathan. You stay here and… stir the paint some more, okay?"

"Okay, Candy," he answered, entirely too agreeably.

"Don't touch anything," Candy said, and in a moment, she was off.

XXX

"Haven't you found the shirts yet, Captain?" Candy asked, entering the attic. "I thought you said you knew where they were."

"I thought I DID know," the Captain fumed, digging through his favorite sea chest.

"They aren't in there," Candy said, tapping her foot. "Don't you remember? We saw them a couple of weeks ago when Jonathan asked to look at your medals. They're in that trunk, over there, I'm pretty sure." She pointed toward a smaller chest near the loveseat.

The ghost shook his head. "I checked there."

"No," Candy argued, going over to the chest and opening it. "Not on top. Your really good stuff is on top. You had to levitate the top compartment… your old clothes were underneath!" The little girl shook her head at the absent-mindedness of adults, spirit or not.

"By, George, you're right!" the Captain grinned, levitating out the upper compartment and revealing the antique shirts underneath. "Here they are. Clever girl! I think you…" He was cut off mid-sentence by a loud thump, a clatter and a scream.

Girl looked at ghost and ghost looked at girl, and for a moment, they stood there frozen. Then the Captain recovered himself. _"Jonathan…"_

"_Oh, BLAST!"_ Candy whispered, turning and looking up at the tall seaman. "I bet he tried to climb that ladder!"

"I'll meet you downstairs, Candy," he said, dematerializing.

A minute later Candy joined the Captain in the living room, where Jonathan lay on the ground next to the fireplace, bleeding profusely from somewhere on his head. Where, precisely was indefinite, Candy thought as she peered through the boy's blonde locks. Her brother was wide-awake and seemed quite lucid, but he was crying, and scared.

"What happened?" Candy asked, "Jonathan…?"

"There's been an accident," the seaman said thickly, feeling his own heart in his throat, even though technically he didn't have a heart anymore.

Reaching closer, Candy tried to move more of Jonathan's hair away to inspect the damage. The boy cried louder and flinched. "I WANT MY MOMMY!" he wailed.

"Oh, gee, oh, no…" Candy gulped, pulling her hand back and tears springing to her eyes. "Captain, he's really bleeding… where's the blood coming from? I mean exactly? I can't tell... Jonathan, does it hurt? I mean, a lot? Captain, what are we going to do? Can you fix him?"

"Candy, I want Mommy…" the boy said again, tearfully.

"Mom's gonna KILL me," Candy said. "I'm supposed to take care of Jonathan, and I didn't… Captain, how bad is he hurt?"

"I... I can't tell, my dear," the Captain answered, getting as close to the boy as he could.

"But you know everything…" the little girl started.

"Candy, dear, I can't touch him, remember? So I can't examine him closely enough through the blood to find out."

"We need rags and water or something to get rid of some of it," Candy said, sniffing a bit. "Then you'll know what to do."

"There is no blasted water," the seaman growled. "That scurvy skinflint, Claymore had it turned off again after you all moved out, remember? I told you earlier…"

"I want Mom…" Jonathan whimpered. "It hurts. Mom can make it better."

"You better go get your mother, Candy," Captain Gregg said, looking uncomfortable, wishing it was himself bleeding in front of the fireplace. _Blast, _he thought. _I haven't been around a hurting child in more than a hundred years! I could help the cabin boys on my ship, but I can't help this lad I care for so much! _

"I want Candy to stay here…" Jonathan sniffed. "Candy, don't leave."

"It'll take too long to get home," his sister said, practically. "It's a half a mile away, and the roads are still muddy. Jonathan needs Mom, now. You can pop faster than I can pedal, Captain. You need to go get her. Martha is in Keystone. You won't run into her, or anything, if that's what's bugging you. Besides, Mom HAS met you. She won't be scared." She turned back to her brother. "I'll stay with Jonathan."

"I am NOT afraid of running into your housekeeper, Candy!" the spirit huffed, and disappeared, silently. "Double blast…" he whispered. "I _was_ hoping SOMETHING would bring Carolyn Muir to Gull Cottage again, but nothing like this!"

XXX  
Carolyn was still in her office/bedroom reading over the corrections she'd made to her story, at her children's insistence. Suddenly, there was a slight change in the room's atmosphere. On reflex, she looked up to see Daniel Gregg standing over her. For a split second, she thought her restless imagination had conjured up a figment. She closed her eyes and shook her head violently then opened them again. No, the spirit was still there.

"C-Captain Gregg?"

"Aye, Madam," he replied gently, unsure how to go about how to break the news without saying 'Your son is bleeding all over my fireplace.' _Most likely the woman will faint... _

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, recovering herself. "Wait… let me guess. Claymore finally decided to have you exorcized, and you picked this place to move to, right? No… You are a figment and I am imagining you because somehow you found out I have been working on this blasted story about a sea captain LIKE you all weekend."

"Madam, I am not a figment. You need to put your story... about ME?" He paused for a moment and looked pleased. "...That paper... down and listen." His tone was serious, but kind.

Carolyn put the manuscript she had been reading face down on her desk. "What is it, Captain Gregg?" she asked, her voice tired. "I've been leaving you alone, just as I said I would. I'll forget about the story. I promise. Even if it is finished and even if I DID change your name."

He closed his eyes for a split second. _Female, eternally female_. There was no time for that, however. "Blast it, Madam, as long as your account of my exploits is done accurately and in good taste, I'm quite... pleased with the idea of..." he broke off. This was not the proper moment for that. "...This is about Jonathan. He and Candy were visiting me, and there was a bit of an accident..."

Instantly, all irritation and fatigue vanished from Carolyn's face. "Jonathan? Is he hurt? How badly?"

"I have no way of knowing, but he needs you. Candy is taking care of him, but there is little that can be done there, yet."

"What happened?" She reached for the sweater on the back of her chair, "Never mind. We can discuss that later. What do I need to bring? Are we talking broken bones or blood?" she asked, all business.

The spirit blinked. This was not at all the reaction he expected. "Uhm… blood." By this time they were halfway to the kitchen.

"Blood… okay. That means I'll need rags… " Quickly she started pulling old but clean wash rags and small towels from a drawer. "Did Claymore turn off the water at Gull Cottage after we left?" she demanded of the spirit.

"Yes, the blasted barnacle."

Quickly she started filling a small pail full of warm water.

"We'll need this then. Tell me…" She paused. "Blood… Candy… Jonathan… You here not at Gull Cottage where you belong. How did this happen?"

"Yes, you see the children have… well, they have been..."

"Yes…?"

"Blast it. They... they've been visiting with me at Gull Cottage. Have been since Scruffy got into my house one afternoon about a month-and-a-half ago. We've grown to be friends. They are rather hard to resist, you know, you children, and…"

"…And?"

"Madam…" he started again. "I am truly sorry, I had no way of knowing the lad would want to climb the ladder that much. I never should have left him alone…"

"Jonathan. Climbing. Figures," she sighed. "You can tell me more later, Captain Gregg, Right now we better get moving." She looked at her watch. "Wonderful. Dr. Feeney will still be in his office… I hope it's not his new assistant. I hate the idea of being treated by someone younger than I am…" By now they were at the front door, rags and bucket in hand.

"Fine. Well. Glad to see you are taking this so… so calmly, Mrs. Muir. I'll meet you back at Gull Cottage then?"

"Fine, nothing…" she retorted. "You'll have to ride back to your house with me. I need someone to hold the bucket of water. If I ride over these bumpy, muddy roads with it in my car, unguarded, there won't be any water left by the time we get there."

"You want me to ride WITH you? In… in that contraption? In an automobile? Madam, I have never ridden in a car…"

"Then it is time you did," she replied, giving him, much to his surprise, an enchanting smile. "Now, no arguments."

"But…"

"Captain. The children are waiting for us."

"Aye," he nodded. For a moment, he was almost tempted to give the determined mother a salute, but the feeling passed. Together, the two made their way to the car.

XXX

On the way back to Gull Cottage, holding the bucket of water as requested, the seaman gave the young widow a quick rundown of the last month and a half, telling again of meeting the children and their adventures while getting to know each other, and how the accident happened. "Blast it, I never should have left them," he fumed. "I never have before… And blast that water-rat Claymore, for shutting off the water again, and blast me, too. I should have made him take better care of Gull Cottage… if he had, this never would have happened… I should have harpooned that barnacle ages ago!"

"Hmm," was Carolyn's only response as she negotiated over a pothole. _"Water-rat. Harpoon. Barnacle. Blast._ Well, at least that answers one of my little mysteries of late... your language!" She paused. "Captain... the night we met... I was rather under the impression that having a family about... children... that we would only be a bother to you."

"Not at all, Madam," Daniel Gregg said quietly, and looked out the window.

XXX

Fighting an overwhelming feeling of… peace as they drove up to Gull Cottage, Carolyn stopped the car in front of the stone gate, threw open the car door and made a run for the inside. Waiting a moment to allow the mother to get to her children first, he grabbed the bucket and rags, and dematerialized, rematerializing in the living room, only seconds after Carolyn. She was already mopping Jonathan's bleeding head as he popped in. Much to the seaman's relief, the boy had stopped crying and was looking very alert. A good sign.

"Well, Jonathan…" She looked at the little boy square in the eye. "Didn't I tell you that you were too young to climb on ladders?" Jonathan nodded and glanced at the seaman. "Yes," she continued. "Captain Gregg told me what happened."

"I'm sorry, Mommy…" he started, but his mother interrupted him. Only Daniel noticed that her hands shook slightly as she continued to clean the area of the boy's wound, located right at the scalp line on the right side of his head.

"Tell me again…" she smiled, relieved that the injury didn't look nearly as bad as it had before the blood was cleaned up. "How did this happen? Your story." She looked at both children.

"It was my fault, Mom," said Jonathan. "We were going to finish the painting Mister Peavey started. I wanted to prove I was too old enough to climb on a ladder, so I waited until Candy and the Captain were up in the wheelhouse…"

"Wheelhouse?"

"…Attic, getting paint shirts, and I climbed up the ladder, and I lost my balance and I fell."

"No, it was my fault," Candy maintained. "I wasn't watching him. I shouldn't have left the room, but I did. I was just in a hurry for the Captain to find the shirts."

"But why did you want to paint the room to begin with?"

"We just wanted to thank the Captain for everything he's done for us," Jonathan said mournfully. "It was going to be fun. We do LOTS of fun stuff together… but I guess I really messed up. I was just trying to help. I'm really sorry!"

"I understand, Jonathan. These things do happen, whether you are sorry or not…" She let out a breath, and examined the wound with what could only be called a practiced eye. "But it looks like stitches to me… my guess would be five." She turned to Candy, and then back to Jonathan. "Well, a fall from a ladder while trying to do something nice is better than the time you, Candy, were doing back-flips on my bed, and fell, and cut your leg open. Or when you, Jonathan, pulled a cup of boiling hot coffee over on yourself, or when you, Candy, accidentally hit your brother over the head with your baseball bat!" She sighed again. "But once, just once, it would be nice to get through a holiday with no stitches… no blood, and no emergencies!"

The Captain started. "They do this a lot?"

Carolyn nodded. "Sure. They're kids."

He shook his head in wonder. "I've never known a woman who could keep her head at the sight of blood."

"It goes with the territory. When you are around children, you get used to it." She peered into her son's eyes again, carefully. They weren't unevenly dilated, and he was still wide-awake. "Here…" she said. Rinsing and wringing out a wet rag once more, she plopped it on his head, covering the wound. "…Hold this right there, Jonathan. I think the bleeding has stopped, mostly, but you DO need stitches. We need to get you to Doctor Feeney." She stood up, and picked up her son, holding him close. "Thank-you, Captain Gregg, for coming to get me. I'll come back and get the bucket later… no, I guess Candy can carry that stuff…"

"Allow me, Madam," the seaman interrupted. "It's the least I can do."

"Thank you."

"Hey, Mom?"

"What is it, Candy?" she asked, turning to her daughter.

"You're going to be busy… you know, with Jonathan. Martha won't be back until later. I can stay with Captain Gregg…"

Carolyn smiled. "Nice try, Honey, but for all anyone knows, this house is empty. I can't leave you here, for all intents and purposes, alone." She glanced at the ghost. "Even though you know, and I know, you wouldn't be." She gave the seaman another enchanting smile, definitely indicating what she wasn't angry about what had happened. "I'm afraid you are going to have to come and sit in the waiting room, Candy."

Daniel nodded. "Your mother is right, dear one. You need to go with her now."

"But doctors offices are boring, unless I'm the one that's hurt, and sometimes even then it is."

"You could take this book with you, child," The seaman said, spiriting a volume into his hand. "An old volume of fairytales my mother gave to me."

"Wow…" the little girl said, breathlessly. "Thanks, Captain!"

"Take good care of it. You and Jonathan will have to share." He looked at Carolyn. "It's the least I can do for them after… after all that has happened," he added, humbly.

"Can we stop and see the Captain on the way home?" Jonathan demanded.

"May we, and maybe," she said, looking up into the seaman's blue eyes, and for a second, he swore that her cheeks were stained a brighter shade of pink. "We'll see." Carolyn smiled again, and a few moments later, they were in the car, headed for Schooner Bay.

XXX

Captain Gregg had no way of knowing how things were going at the doctor's office, but the hours were certainly dragging for him. Despite Mrs. Muir's confidence that Jonathan would be all right and assurance that children were prone to do things like this, he was worried. Once, he could have spent a happy afternoon on sea charts, but now, his concentration was "shot," as the kids might say. _Would Candy and Jonathan ever be back? Would she ALLOW them to come_ _back?_ Near twilight, when he sensed their approach from his station on the widow's-walk, Daniel knew he hadn't been so relieved about anything since before his death. Realizing they were actually slowing down in front of the house, he teleported himself inside.

Carolyn looked at her son in the car seat next to her. "Are you sure you don't want to just go home, Jonathan, and we can see the Captain tomorrow?"

"No, Mom," The boy shook his head. "I feel fine. It doesn't even hurt…"

"Honey, that's because the numbness hasn't worn off yet."

"It has a little bit, and I STILL feel fine. It was only four stitches. Mom, we gotta see the Captain tonight and tell him he doesn't have to worry about me."

"All right, but the doctor DID say you need to get your rest. You…"

"Hey!" Jonathan interrupted. "Look! The lights are on!"

"Yeah!" Candy chorused. "C'mon, Mom… Captain Gregg is waiting for us!"

"You're… sure?" she asked her children hesitantly, but followed as they opened the car doors, scrambled over the gate and ran up the flagstone walk, Scruffy running after them. As they reached the porch, the door swung open, invitingly, and when they reached the living room, a fire blazed in the fireplace.

"Good evening, Madam…" He looked at her hesitantly. "Good evening, children." Scruffy gave a bark of welcome. "You too, shag-rug," he added, affectionately.

"Hi, Captain!" they chorused, and made a beeline for the fireplace, settling before it. "It always feels so warm and cozy here," Candy added.

"Yeah, all we need are some marshmallows," said Jonathan.

"Marshmallows?"

"Yeah, Captain! For toasting in the fireplace!" the boy elaborated. "Hey, Captain, you would have been really proud of me at the doctors. I didn't cry! And Mom was wrong… I only needed four stitches."

The spirit turned and looked at Carolyn, noting she looked more exhausted at that moment than the night they fought and she had packed up and left Gull Cottage.

"May I offer you a seat, my dear?" He gestured toward the couch near the fireplace.

_Well, it DOES look cozy…_ Carolyn thought. Relieved, she sank into it.

"Mrs. Muir, I'd like to thank you for bringing the children by… for letting me know Jonathan is all right. It… you could have waited…"

Carolyn shook her head. "The children insisted you would be worried, and well, I agreed."

"Madam, I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about everything that happened today."

"No hard feelings, Captain. I told you, children are children and parents… that is, adults… we can't be everywhere at the same time." She looked around the cozy room. "That has been quite obvious to me, of late. You house looks… nice. I see you haven't let it go back to the state we found it in."

The seaman shrugged. "I never had any reason before now. And your children seem to like helping me…" He trailed off, remembering that was how the accident happened.

"Captain…" Carolyn interrupted. "I told you. I don't think it was your fault. Things happen. And remember, I wasn't here either. I didn't even know they had been coming here. So, if it is your fault, it's my fault, too."

"It's nobody's fault," Jonathan interjected. "Except mine, maybe. I was the one who climbed up on the ladder."

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "Everyone, stop it! I'm not blaming anyone!" She gazed up at the seaman, who was still pacing, agitated, around the room. "Captain Gregg, I want to thank you for your help today. And I promise you. My children won't bother you further."

"But, MOM!" Candy protested.

The spirit cut her off. "They have never bothered me, Madam. In fact, I quite enjoy having them around. I was rather hoping, now that you know about their visits, you might let them continue to come here from time to time?"

"Yes, please?" The children begged, turning their eager faces, rosy with the firelight, toward their mother's.

"I… I suppose," Carolyn agreed, hesitantly. "If you are sure they are no bother to you, Captain."

"They aren't, and I wouldn't have asked, if they were," the seaman huffed. "Besides, I have come to the conclusion that no children under your care could ever be a "bother" to anyone."

"Well, maybe you can, then…" She looked at her children. "But no more ladders."

"Perhaps…" He gazed at the beautiful woman before him. "Perhaps you might visit also?"

"I… I don't know…" she answered, slowly.

"Of course, I understand, you are quite busy," the ghost sighed. "Very busy… but the children…" He drew a deep 'breath.' "Madam, I… I don't suppose you'd consider moving back in?" Suddenly his words came tumbling out. "Candy and Jonathan and I have become quite fond of each other, the rent would be the same, and you would have more room here, and…" He paused. "But I suppose you…"

"You… you really want us to come back?" Carolyn asked, slowly, and her voice almost cracked. "But what about…"

"Mom, PLEASE!" her offspring said together. "Please, may we?"

"My dear, Gull Cottage hasn't been the same… without you," the spirit said gruffly. "I won't demand it, of you, as I know you don't like being told what to do, but… but if you would like to, the offer is open. My house is really much better built than that atrocity you are living in now."

"I'll say..." Candy interjected. "Nothing there works."

"This place is cool, Mom…" Jonathan cut in. "And so's the Captain… He's been teaching us all sorts of stuff, and…"

"I've heard..." Carolyn said dryly. "Calling Danny Shoemaker a 'blasted sea-slug'?"

"Well, he is... and sea-slug sounds better than creep, and you said his mom is…"

"Jonathan, your language is getting entirely too salty for the classroom!"

"Nonsense, Madam. He..."

"Captain!" the beautiful woman warned.

"I will do my best to see that my... uhm, way of speaking does not overly influence the lad, Mrs. Muir..." the seaman conceded. "Now..." he continued, sensing that they needed to get out of that line of conversation, "I admit, the house is a bit run down, but it could be fixed, and it is ideal for the children — you said so yourself. As for how I feel about you — you have spunk. You've shown that today… That counts for you. You love my house. That counts for you, too."

"And you obviously love my children, Captain Gregg," she returned. "That counts for _you_. And twentieth-century women are… spunky. As for Gull Cottage, I know it's a lovely house. I thought so from the first. I... I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. Can you… understand the way I feel… about you...? The house that is... I mean..."

Daniel Gregg looked at the beautiful woman before him closely. _Were there tears in her eyes? _

"I can," he nodded. "I felt that way about my first ship."

"It's a _marvelous_ house," Jonathan said, his eyes shining.

"With a _marvelous_ ghost!" Candy added.

"I did design and build it myself," the ghost said, only a bit proudly.

"I know that," Carolyn said, more composed.

"You do?" He looked surprised, and wondered what else Carolyn knew, but recovered quickly. "And I am on watch from my bridge more often than not… when I'm not working on my sea charts, or logs, that is. I do think we could stay out of each other's way. And you would be free to concentrate on your own writing, not that blasted pup, Mark Finley's rag, or spend time on home repairs and the like. The children have showed me some of your pieces. I found them fascinating... you need to brush up on your nautical terms, I understand. However, I would..."

"Captain...?" Carolyn stopped him.

"Yes, Mrs. Muir?"

"Thank you. I appreciate the offer. When I am ready for your help, I will ask for it... and appreciate it."

"Naturally, Madam. I…"

"But," she continued. "You said 'bridge.' Where's that? You have a ship near here also?"

"This house is the only ship I have now, dear lady. The bridge is the walk." He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling.

"The widow's-walk, Mom," Jonathan said eagerly. "You know, the one you told us about, where the wives of seaman used to wait and watch for their husbands to return from the sea."

"And you were right, too," Candy added. "You can see EVERYTHING from up there."

"Yes… on the roof," the seaman added. "Right above our room."

Carolyn blushed. "I don't know... maybe, I…"

"C'mon, Jonathan," said Candy, sensing a deal was forthcoming. "Let's go look at _our_ room again." The two children started for the stairs.

"Jonathan…" Carolyn called. "Your head. Be careful."

"I will!" the boy called back. "It's hardly stinging at all!"

"Children recover quickly, as well, I suppose?" the seaman asked, looking after them

Carolyn turned back to him. "Yes… Hmm... _Our_ room, Captain?"

"Well…" he gave her a slightly wolfish grin. "Well, it was my room once. And there's no need to blush, Madam. I'm only a spirit, remember?"

"I'm not blushing…" She turned a shade redder. "But, Captain, I see you... the children see you."

"Only if I wish it, my dear. I'm only an illusion. Now you see me, now you..."

Suddenly the spirit was gone.

Carolyn looked around the room, fighting an overwhelming feeling of panic. "You come back here!"

"As you wish..." he said, reappearing behind her. She whirled around.

"Stop that, Captain!" She smiled, then sighed. "But... well... moving again. I feel silly, but… I really don't like living where we are now, and I would rather not be writing for Mister Finley anymore, and..."

"Then, you should move back here," the spirit said calmly.

Carolyn nodded. "Well, if you agree that you won't boss me around. I hate that. Or interfere in our lives… and that if things don't work out, I am still completely free to go... no hard feelings?"

"If you want to go, I won't be able to stop you," the ghost answered kindly. "I didn't stop you last time, did I?"

_No, but I never forgot you, either_.

"No, but…"

"And Christmas," he coaxed. "If you start packing right away, you could be all settled in, in a couple of weeks or so… Just in time to get ready. You should see Gull Cottage all decked up for Christmas."

There was a beat, and the specter held his breath.

The blonde nodded.

"Yes."

The relief on the ghost's face was evident, but he recovered quickly.

"Well then. We'll just call this an experiment."

"A trial period?" Carolyn asked, turning her face up to his.

"Yes. For both of us."

A moment of silence and understanding passed between the woman and the spirit, then, finally, Carolyn tore her eyes away from his. "Uhm… Well. All right, then." She started looking around the cozy room. "We still have a lot of work to do here."

"I suppose you'll want that painter back," the Captain stated.

Carolyn shrugged. "Well, I could do it myself, but it would be a help. Unless…" she added in a teasing tone, "…Unless you'd like to give it another go with the children. I'm sure they'd LOVE to!"

Daniel Gregg shuddered in spite of himself.

"Uhm, no. I don't wish to repeat today. Call the painter. I won't take a chance on seeing the children hurt again. I promise not to torment him… unless… unless he starts calling me names. Perhaps then I will..."

"Captain..." Carolyn said in a warning tone. "You…"

"After all, Madam," he smiled, tugged at the lapels of his jacket and rocked back and forth on his heels. "After all, I'm only human… at least I was!" He smiled. "Until tomorrow, Madam!"

He started to disappear, but she called him back.

"Captain! Wait! Tomorrow?"

"Naturally! I'll be over early to supervise the moving..."

"Captain! I told you I am quite capable..." Carolyn started, but he cut her off.

"Blast… I mean HELP supervise, naturally!"

"Really, Captain…" She looked around. "Candy! Jonathan! Kids! Let's get moving!"

The children were there in a moment.

"So we really are moving back in, Mom?" Jonathan inquired. "I hope so. Candy and I have already decided where our stuff is going to go, and the Captain has been keeping some stuff here for us, and…"

"Jonathan?" Carolyn interrupted.

"Yes, Mom?"

"I said we were, remember? You don't have to 'sell' me anymore. The Captain and I are going to try it again. See how it goes."

"I think it will "go" splendidly," the spirit nodded. "Just give it a chance, my dear."

"Captain…" A thought struck her. "Captain, what about Claymore?"

"What about that bilge blister?"

"I mean, will he let us move back in here?"

"He will or I will haunt him until he can't see straight. You have nothing to worry about on that account."

"I wish I could see you haunt someone, Captain," Jonathan piped up.

"Do you really think Claymore Gregg will let us move back in, Mom?" Candy asked as the little family started making its way to the door.

"I told you that sea-worm is not a Gregg — and yes, HE WILL." The Captain said firmly.

As they reached the car, where the seaman spirited the children's bikes into the tailgate, Candy asked another question.

"Captain, Are you going to show yourself to Martha?"

"Eventually," he nodded. "When she's ready."

"I hope that's soon," Jonathan piped up. "I think she'll love you as much as we do!"

The soon-to-be Lady of Gull Cottage found herself blushing again.

"I don't know how I am going to explain to Martha us moving again," she sighed. "I mean, are you going to decompose every time she comes into the room?"

"Blast it, Madam! It's dematerialize, and, as indelicate as it might be to say, I am sure my bones already have by this time. And if I don't WISH Martha to see me, she won't!"

"I just don't know what I am going to tell her," Carolyn shook her head.

Jonathan grinned. "Just tell Martha,_ 'Man the torpedoes, full speed ahead'!"_

XXX

For the second time that autumn, the Muirs found themselves moving into Gull Cottage. Martha was relieved enough about getting the Albatross off her neck to not ask too many questions. She seemed to simply think her employer had decided their current home had entirely too many problems, and the housekeeper could not agree more. Claymore was, as promised, perfectly delighted to lease them Gull Cottage once again. By the time the snow started falling, the entire 'crew' felt at home, and, more importantly, at peace.

With the third snow of the season, a fair sized one, the week before Christmas, Carolyn, Candy, Jonathan and Martha learned something else about their lovely house. Power outages were inevitable. Well, it did make for early bedtimes. The children were asleep, Martha retired, the Captain busy with his sea charts in the alcove, being USED to working by candlelight, and Carolyn upstairs with a book, a candle and a cozy fire, when two figures trudged their way up to the stone gate, wading through the snow, up to the front porch of Gull Cottage.

"Oh, Harvey," the woman moaned. "This is miserable! It's freezing! And the car… stuck in a drift! Why didn't we get chains put on?"

"Oh, come on, Gladys," Harvey returned, "this is gonna be fun! I'm sure things aren't really that bad! Think of the stories we will have to tell our grandchildren! Stuck in a snowstorm on our way to get married! Besides, what do you expect from Maine, this time of year?"

"What I SUSPECT is, we shouldn't have done this. We should have gone to Bermuda to get married, like my mother said."

"Your mother has an over inflated idea of what a wedding should entail," the man said, playing his flashlight beam over the porch. "…And my wallet. We agreed. Smaller wedding and honeymoon, and we'll have more money for a down payment on a house. Now everything is going to be all right. I'm sure these people will help us." He tapped on the door, lightly, ignoring the doorbell. If there WAS someone home, and if they had small children, waking them up would not get them into anyone's good graces.

"Harvey… maybe nobody lives here." Gladys shivered. "This house is off in the middle of nowhere…"

"There's somebody here. There HAS to be. Now don't worry," he soothed her.

"Harvey, I tell you this place is creepy… and we're… we're stuck here!"

"Yeah, it is, isn't it? You know, like one of those old horror movies where the young couple comes up to the old deserted house… on a dark, cold night… _ooohhhh_…" he snuck an arm over the woman's shoulder and started nibbling on her neck. "Now just about this time, a ghost…"

"Oh, Harvey, don't!" She pushed him away.

"Okay, honey, sorry!" Turning around, he pointed the flashlight down toward the walk. "Snow is getting a little lighter, but I really don't want us in the car all night! Especially with no way to keep warm." He drew his arm around her. "Well, except for cuddling, that is. Makes me almost wish this old place was a LITTLE haunted! Wouldn't it be funny if the door just opened all by itself and there was nobody there?"

"Oh, Harvey, please!" the woman rolled her eyes. "You…" She was interrupted by a creaking sound and both man and woman turned, and watched the front door swing open — very slowly.

Gladys visibly paled, and Harvey's mouth dropped open. "Ohhhhhh!" she whispered. "Harvey… what?"

For a moment the honeymooners stared at each other. Should they, or shouldn't they? But in the end, desire to get in from the cold won out over fear of the unknown. Cautiously, the two made their way inside.

"Don't worry, sweetie," said Harvey "…It's just the wind that opened that door... you know, the snow and all." Suddenly, the door swung shut with a bang. "And it was the wind that closed it, too!" he added, suddenly not quite so sure of himself. Cautiously the two made their way past the foyer and into the living room.

"I don't like this, really, I don't, Harvey," Gladys whispered, taking his arm again.

"Come on, hon, it's just a house." Hesitantly, he called out. "Hello? Hello? Anybody home?" Once again, he started dancing the beam of the flashlight around the room.

"Shh… Nobody's here," Gladys whispered.

"If nobody's here, I shouldn't have to shush," Harvey grinned. "But, Gladys, there's got to be somebody here. Look! It's all furnished…" He shone the flashlight into the furthest corners. "…And everything's clean… There's nothing spooky here. It's just a nice, normal house. And from the looks of the place, an old one, too." Suddenly, the flashlight beam hit the portrait of Daniel Gregg, catching it full in the face.

Gladys gasped again. "Oh, Harvey, let's get out of here… I do NOT like that painting! Look at the way it stares at us!"

"Gladys, being stranded in a storm with a stuck car, and no houses in sight except this one… this is no time to be an art critic!" He paused. "It's just a nice, normal painting! There's nothing to be frightened about!"

Gladys flinched again and turned a way from the steely blue eyes in the portrait and Harvey watched as another terrified look crept over her face. "Ohhhhh… Harveeeey!" she squawked, and as he turned, the beam hit Carolyn Muir, who was standing at the top of the stairs, holding a candle, full in the face.

"Hey!" Carolyn said. "Who's there?"

"Oh… Uhm... it's us…" said Harvey, shifting the beam so Carolyn could remove the hand that was shading her eyes from the glare.

The beautiful blonde looked puzzled. "Us? Who ARE you?"

"Uhm…" the uncertain man said again, moving toward the stairs and dragging Gladys behind him. "This is Harvey Dillman, and I'm Gladys… No… It's the other way around. I'm Gladys and this is Harv…"

Deciding that her fiancé was in need of a rescue, Gladys cut in.

"I'm Gladys, and this is Harvey. How do you do?"

"Uh, yes," Harvey interrupted, finding his voice. "You see, our uh, car… well, you see the fact is, we were driving along the road, and the car skidded, and now it's in a ditch about maybe three blocks from here, and we got here, you see, and we did knock, but then it just opened all by itself…"

"Ah, yes," Carolyn nodded. "The latch is broken." She winced slightly. While it was true that they had been having trouble with the lock, she also knew a certain ghost of a sea captain of her acquaintance, had still not entirely rid himself of his habit of teasing unwary visitors. _Could he have done it? Where was he anyway? _Normally he was right there when "brigands" as he called them, came anywhere near his "ship."

"Oh, well, I'm sure glad to hear that," Harvey prattled on. "We shouldn't have walked in on you like this, I, I hope we didn't scare you." He laughed, nervously.

Carolyn descended another step. "Well, to be honest you did, a little." Inwardly, she smiled_. Hard to be scared with a REAL ghost in the house._

"I'm... I'm really sorry about this," Harvey continued. "I wonder, could we use your telephone to call a mechanic? Get somebody out here to fix our car? I mean, get it out of the ditch?"

Carolyn shook her head. "You'll never get anyone out here this time of night. Especially not in the snow. And our only garage closed at six."

"Oh, well… maybe there's a hotel near by…" he said wistfully.

Carolyn shook her head again. "I'm afraid not, Mister … Dillman, right? There's nothing nearby."

"Oh, gee…" He looked grossly disappointed.

"What are we going to do, Harvey?" Gladys seemed almost in tears.

The man looked baffled. "I don't know, I just don't know… maybe someone will come out…"

Carolyn descended another step. "I'm afraid you don't have much choice. You'll just have to stay here tonight. By morning the snow should stop and then we can get someone out to tow your car."

"Well, great," Harvey said, breathing a very obvious sigh of relief. "Thank you. Thank you VERY much!"

"Yes, you're really very nice!" Gladys chimed in. "You're just a nice, normal person!"

"I beg your pardon?" Carolyn asked, uncertainly, wishing again she knew where the Captain was.

"Oh, Gladys was a little frightened," Harvey said nervously. "Your place did look a bit unusual in the dark… spooky… you know… ha-ha…" His voice trailed off.

"This is just a nice, ordinary house and we're just ordinary people."

"But," the younger woman insisted. "Why are you carrying that candle? Don't you believe in electric lights?"

_I do, but Captain Gregg doesn't,_ Carolyn grinned to herself. She gave a little laugh. "Oh, this…" She held the candle up a little higher. "We had a power failure about an hour ago. The weather, you know. It blew the transformer out this way."

"Ohh! Oh, well." A look of relief crossed the younger woman's face. "That's what it was! Just a nice, normal power failure… " She broke off, another startled look crossing her face as Martha appeared out of the blackness and stood next to Carolyn, who was now at the foot of the stairs.

"What's going on?" the housekeeper asked, grumpily, adjusting her hair net. "I heard voices."

"It's all right Martha," Carolyn smiled. "We have visitors. This young couple…"

"Hi, there," they waved.

"…Had car trouble," Carolyn continued. ""We're going to put them up for the night. She turned back to Gladys and Harvey. "This is Martha, my housekeeper."

"How do you do?" Martha murmured, and yawned.

"How do you do?" the couple responded. "Ever so nice of you to take us in like this!"

"Now I have a nice spare bedroom…" Carolyn continued, taking up her candle and starting up the stairs again "…and I think you will both be very comfortable in it. Give me a few minutes and I'll have it ready." She turned at the top of the stairs. "Why don't you two go get your bags? Martha and I should be finished about the time you get back." So saying, Carolyn turned back toward the second floor landing, still holding the candle and took another step up. In doing so, her toe caught on the long hem of her dressing gown and she felt herself tipping backward and falling… tumbling down… down… down. A sharp pain, and there was nothing but blackness…

_Until..._

"Carolyn? Carolyn, can you hear me?" A familiar, velvety, male voice pierced the fog surrounding her brain and a tender hand brushed against her forehead. Dull pain, and then voices again...

"Mom…" The voice of a young woman joined the other voice, still whispering words of comfort. "Mom! Captain Dad… Lynne, do something!"

"Carolyn…" came another familiar voice, female, this time. "Carolyn, try to open your eyes."

"Hurts…" she mumbled, and she felt someone rubbing her wrists.

"Carolyn, darling… please, keep talking… say something," the same dear voice rumbled, and she became aware of a very, VERY familiar touch at her cheek, and then a voice near her ear. "Carolyn… Love, darling… please tell me you're all right."

"Captain… Gregg?" she whispered, her eyes opening only slightly. "What? Who?"

"_Captain?"_ the voice came again, puzzled. "It's been Daniel for a decade now. More even."

"You fell, Carrie darlin…" another male voice interrupted. "Do you remember?"

"Sean's right." Another soft brogue, female, echoed the other voice. "You went upstairs to get your new manuscript… a few minutes later, we heard you tumble."

"My manuscript…" she echoed, opening her eyes a centimeter further. "Did I drop it?"

"Mom… are you okay?" Candy said again. "Lynne, DO something."

"Carolyn, come on, open your eyes," a soft, but firm voice commanded, then added. "She'll be fine — she was only out for a minute, maybe less."

"But… did I drop my story?" Carolyn asked again. "Mister Finley will…"

"Never MIND the story, blast it! Mister Finley? That… Blatherskite! Never mind that shiftless salamander!"

_Shiftless salamander?_

Then, Carolyn knew where she was, and more importantly, with whom. Slowly, she opened her eyes fully and saw the relieved faces of her friends, family, and Daniel Gregg. She was home_. For real._

"Daniel…" Carolyn looked up into the azure depths of her husband's eyes from where her head was cradled in his lap. "Darling, you feel… FEEL wonderful, but this floor is not…"

"Blast. Of course it's not. Lynne... Can Carolyn be moved?" At the doctor's nod, Daniel Gregg picked her up and carried her into the living room, where she was deposited gently on the sofa.

"My love…" Daniel sat down next to her, still holding her hand. "Are you sure you are all right?"

"I didn't see what happened," Ed drawled. "But I just checked, didn't see any loose carpet up there, or anything…"

"I think I was just clumsy…" Carolyn started.

"Nonsense," Daniel blustered. "You are the most graceful woman I know."

"Anything I can do to help, Mom?" Thom asked, interrupting. "I know, I'll get her some water…" he dashed out of the room.

"Better add an aspirin or two to that," Dash said. "Carolyn's going to have a beastly headache, if she doesn't already."

"Wrong, Charlie." Lynne shook her head. "No drugs until I say so."

"Ice-pack then," Dash said, and disappeared, reappearing two seconds later. "Here." He slapped it into Lynne's hand.

"Thanks."

"What about some Ben-Gay?" inquired Martha. "I can find some. Even if her head is all right, by tomorrow her muscles will be hurting."

"Not a bad idea," Lynne winced, remembering her fall off Adam and Jess's kitchen counter. "A little later, though. Now cool it, all of you," the doctor said, making herself heard above the other concerned inquiries. "Let me do my doctor thing, here. You have to let me talk to Carolyn if I'm going to examine her."

"Better listen to the doctor, family," said Adam, looking relieved, to say the least, at what was transpiring. "Lynne knows what she's doing."

When the small crowd moved aside, the woman stepped over to the sofa, sitting down on the couch on Carolyn's other side. Holding up her hand, she asked, "How many fingers?"

"Two," Carolyn said, answering correctly.

Lynne nodded, then had Carolyn track her finger with her eyes. "A-plus," she announced a few moments later. "Carolyn, what day is it?"

"December eighteenth…" Carolyn said, promptly. "Wait… no…" she paused. "That's not right. It's June. June fourth, nineteen-eighty two."

"And what is your name?" Lynne smiled.

"Carolyn Gregg… or Miles," she said softly, glancing at Daniel, who was sitting on the couch on her other side, holding on to her hand for dear life. She squeezed his hand.

"And your children are…?"

Carolyn smiled again and looked at her beautiful, grown-up daughter. "Candy, Jonathan, and Jenny."

Lynne examined Carolyn's eyes closely, once more. "She's fine," she said, to the room in general. "Pupils evenly dilated, but not overly. But I'd like to keep you awake for a while, just to be cautious, Carolyn. Just for an hour or so."

"Really? Why?" Jess asked.

"Just better to keep her lucid and thinking for a bit, Sis," Lynne answered. "Standard operating procedures with head stuff."

Daniel nodded. "Whatever you say, Doctor."

"I suppose we should all get going," Molly said, still looking worried. "You need quiet, and…"

"Oh no," Carolyn smiled. "I don't want my clumsiness to break up our weekly fun. Besides, If I have to stay lucid, I need lots of people to talk to." She squeezed Daniel's hand again.

Everyone drew a sigh of relief, and drew up a chair or found some place to sit in the room, Tris being asked only once not to float on the ceiling.

"Carrie?" Sean asked. "Why did you say December?"

"Beg pardon?"

"When Lynne asked you the date, you said December eighteenth, at first. Why?"

"I was wonderin' that myself," said Molly.

"I… It WAS December, where I was…" Carolyn began. "For a few moments… sort of. I… Lynne, I was only out for a minute?"

"Less, I'd say," Martha said. "The men were in the dining room, playing cards. We were in here, chatting. You said you wanted to show us your latest article for the _Boston Globe. _You went upstairs to get it, then a few minutes later, we heard you fall. You must have slipped on your way back downstairs." She paused. "But to answer your earlier question when you were coming out of it, Your article is fine. No messed up pages."

"Odd…" Carolyn rubbed the back of her neck, wincing slightly and another ice pack appeared in her husband's hand from out of nowhere and placed gently on her head. "I had this dream… in the DREAM it was December eighteenth… but my dream didn't START in December… It started the day we moved into Gull Cottage… and then back OUT again! It seemed so… real."

"Out! What?" Everyone in the room chorused.

"Why don't you tell us about it?" Lynne urged her. "I'd like to keep you talking for a while, Carolyn. You might as well tell us your dream."

"Please," Thom added, handing her the glass of water. "I can't vouch for everyone, but I'd like to hear."

"What I told you," Carolyn said again. "My dream started with Claymore coming to Gull Cottage and telling Daniel he had rented the place to me. Daniel didn't want us to move in… then… then I dreamed our first day here, the cleaning, the thunderstorm Daniel created that first night, how we met, only…"

"Only WHAT?" Candy burst out.

"Hold on, honey, I'm getting there," Carolyn smiled at her daughter. Slowly, she began her tale.

XXX

"…And then I woke up and I was here," Carolyn finished. "It was just a dream. But I'm here and all you are here, and I feel a little like Dorothy waking up at the end of _The_ _Wizard of Oz, _but I don't care. I don't ever want to go through two months like that again! No Daniel, Gregg, no Gull Cottage…" She shuddered.

Her 'family' looked at her, dumfounded.

"Weird," said Dash. "To re-live such an early part of your life here!"

"Definitely strange," Lynne nodded. "I've studied dream analysis somewhat, and I've heard of people dreaming they were married to someone else, or that they had a fight they didn't have, or re-lived a bad day at work, but never one where you re-lived your own life and ended up back where you started."

"Well, I think it's romantic as anything," said Jess, who had held Adam's hand all the way through Carolyn's tale. "Any way you play it, you two were meant to be together."

"Highly detailed," said Tris. "I'll have to tell Sig about this. He's going to be sorry he stayed with the horses tonight."

"I like it," said, Candy, decidedly. "I got to meet Captain Dad a lot sooner! I could have lived with that."

"It's a good thing I wasn't your lawyer way back then," Adam commented. "Claymore was still Claymore, I see. I could have torn that rental agreement to shreds."

"Blackie would be fascinated," Thom said. "He always says things happen for a reason, and will happen as they should, despite everything. Like Aunt Jess said. I think your dream proves that. In it, you left, proving your independence in a different way than just leaving Philadelphia, yet you ended up making your own decision to come back here as you were destined to."

"And from what you said, we had some of the feelings and said the same things we did the first time around," Ed added. "Concerning me, anyway! Captain Gregg scared me away durin' the paintin', and he did it again in your dream!"

"There were some different things though," Carolyn maintained. "I just can't figure out why I would have such a hallucination to begin with. Like working for Mark Finley for any length of time at all. Or not doing Claymore's play. Or how far Gull Cottage was from Schooner Bay."

"That's right," Tris nodded. "I don't remember that, because of course I can pop, but in your dream, Gull Cottage was only a mile and a half away from town. It's more like two miles away from town, really."

"Can't say as I blame you for opting out of that play, even in a dream!" Martha shuddered.

"And there was no Albatross Manor," Carolyn sighed gratefully, and leaned against her husband. "Thank goodness! That place made our first years at Gull Cottage, with its maintenance problems look like nothing!"

"Albatross… Albatross Manor," Daniel muttered, distracted. "Wait a minute…"

"Yes, Daniel," Carolyn smiled. "A figment of my imagination… for which I am DEEPLY thankful!"

"No…" she seaman said, shaking his head. "It wasn't."

"What? Don't tell me there was…"

"Albatross Manor… I remember it, now," said Daniel. "Much smaller than Gull Cottage. A ramshackle old place, about a mile from here, up the road."

"You mean…?" Carolyn suddenly looked quite pale.

"Yes," Daniel nodded. "And you're right. The house DID belong to Claymore. It collapsed one night. The roof caved in during a heavy snow. Thank goodness the last family that lived there moved out only a few weeks before."

"Ah," said Sean. "Then that's explained at least. "Carrie heard about it, and…"

"No…" Carolyn shook her head and leaned against her husband's shoulder. "I never heard of that house before. Never before tonight."

"You wouldn't have…" Daniel said, even more quietly. "I've NEVER mentioned it to you. _And that house was destroyed two winters before you moved to Schooner Bay!"_

XXX

Everyone was gone, leaving with reminders that if needed they were but a phone call, or a thought away, as the case might be. Lynne had consented to letting Carolyn have a couple of aspirin, and now, she was feeling the effects slightly. Carolyn curled up in bed, but her husband did not immediately join her. Instead, he paced, watching her as he did so.

"Darling, are you sure you are all right?"

"I'd be a lot more all right if you would come to bed," she smiled. "Your pacing back and forth is wearing me out." _And stop asking me if I'm all right! _she added silently.

"Very well." Disrobing manually, Daniel pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and joined her in the bed, leaving the bedside lamp on.

"Daniel?"

"Yes?"

"I could sleep now."

"Good," he answered, reaching for the book he had left on the table.

"I could sleep a little better if you turn off that light."

"Sorry, darling. I… I just thought I'd read for a bit first, if that's all right with you."

"Oh…" She snuggled next to him, laying her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "Good story?"

"So-so."

"Oh."

Ten minutes went by.

Carolyn sighed. It was obvious that her husband was not that fascinated with the book. He hadn't turned the page once.

"Daniel?" she asked again, lifting her head from his chest.

"Yes?" He paused. "Put your head back down there."

Complying with his request, she asked; "Can we please call it a night and turn off the blasted lights?"

"As you wish, darling." He reached over carefully and did so, trying not to disturb her.

"That's more like it."

"I think so, too," he smiled, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head, making sure to avoid the injured area.

The moonlight shone in the open window and the spirit was struck by an odd feeling of deja vu. _Tonight is so much like our first night together… like the first night Carolyn stayed in this house._

He kissed the top of her head again gently and she lifted her head once more.

"Love, what is it?"

"Nothing," he whispered. "Nothing at all. Go back to sleep."

She rolled over onto her own pillow. "Now, that's not true, Daniel, and I wasn't asleep yet."

He reached for her gently and pulled her back so that once more, her head lay on his massive chest. "I just want to know you are all right."

"Darling, you must have asked me that at least ten times." She snuggled closer.

"I know I have. Now you can make it eleven... are you SURE you are all right?"

"Yes…" She giggled slightly. "But I will be more all right when you stop asking me that... at least tonight."

"I'm sorry, my dearest love. I'm just so blasted worried about you. That fall…"

She ran a slender finger down his bare chest, then wrapped her arm around his waist again. "It was just a tumble. Lynne said I would be fine. Just to take it easy for a day or so."

"I intend to make sure you do," he whispered. Placing a hand on her chin, he moved her head gently so her eyes were looking into his.

"Daniel, I..." she started.

"I don't want anything to happen to you — ever," he choked out. "When you fell… it was the longest minute of my life, or afterlife, and that includes the time I fought that crocodile off the coast of Florida in 1860, I..."

"Darling, really, I under..."

"No, you don't understand," he continued. "Not completely, I mean." He laced his fingers with hers.

"I think I do..."

"No, you don't, now hush, love," he went on. "Carolyn, I've never told you this before, but tonight — what happened… and now, looking at the moonlight through the window… I'm reminded of…"

"…Of?"

"The first night you were here. I think I… well even with our ups and downs, and well, bickering the first year or so we knew each other, I..."

"Yes?"

"Carolyn, I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. With your fire, your spirit, your determination, and your beauty, and now, I think I would cease to exist without you. I've loved you ever since that first night you came and stayed and wormed your way into my house and my... soul. I told you so that first night, too."

"Really?" She stroked his cheek. "I don't remember that! As I recall, our first night here you mentioned something about me keeping my sails trimmed and being at Gull Cottage on trial. You know, you never did tell me that the trial period was over. When, that night, did you tell me you _loved _me?"

"Well, not in those words, exactly... just that... that..."

"Tell me, Daniel. Now you've got me curious and I won't be able to rest for wondering."

"You were asleep at the time. I couldn't tell you when you were awake… not so soon. I didn't want you to have that advantage over me, but now... I want you to know…"

"Know what?"

"I told you while you were sleeping that night that you were the only woman I ever wished could have been on board my ship with me. And that if you had lived in my time, I would have carried you away to sea with me the first moment I saw you. I said that I wished I could have shown you what you missed by not been born when I was alive and could be a _real_ husband to you."

"Daniel, love, you are…" She reached up and caressed his face, and kissed him… the kiss building into more and more until it made his head spin, as well as hers.

"I also wanted to tell you…" he continued when they broke apart, "…that the waiting and hunting I did for a hundred years was worth every moment of it, because I DID find you."

"Oh, Daniel…"

_"You're my soul mate, me Darlin'_…" he whispered, traces of his Gaelic heritage coming out in his voice, as it always did when he was deeply affected. "…And I thank God above that even though you were not born in my time, or I in yours, that we can be together at last."

Carolyn sighed happily and kissed her husband once more. A kiss of love and passion and complete understanding.

_It was wonderful to be home._

END

**_Stories in the From This Day On Universe_**

_**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**_

_**Christmas Presence**_

_**Getting To Know You**_

_**From This Day On**_

_**Serendipity**_

_**One Halloween**_

_**Resolutions**_

_**In Good Spirits**_

_**The Best Laid Plans**_

_**Past Sins**_

_**To Everything there is a Season**_

_**Halloween with Friends**_

_**When the Stars Come Out**_

_**I Won't Say Goodbye**_

_**When Legends Meet (in the middle of Goodbye)**_

_**Changes**_

_**Wedding Conspiracy**_

_**Martha's Wish**_

_**Knowing the Truth that Haunts Me**_

_**Brotherly Love**_

_**Heart's Memories**_

_**The Duel**_

_**Space Between**_

_**Claymore to the Rescue**_

_**Ghost Riders (aka: Equine Element)**_

_**Relativity**_

_**Hello, Goodbye, Hello**_

_**Jane Shoemaker Strikes Again**_

_**Gifts from the Heart**_

_**Return of the Ghost Hunter**_

_**A Wedding In The Family**_

_**The Healing**_

_**Another Life**_

_**Because of FF Net lyrics rules, not all these stories are currently up, but we can steer you to them and the un-altered versions. Just drop a note via the review page.**_


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